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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22872685">The Heroine Lives Across the Hall from Me?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritofaRose/pseuds/SpiritofaRose'>SpiritofaRose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Inso's Law</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>#Inso'sLaw #Manhwa #Parody #YourHumbleFanficWriter #JustForLaughs #Romance? #Possibly?, Gen, Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:53:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,761</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22872685</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritofaRose/pseuds/SpiritofaRose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Her life has turned into a shoujo anime. Michi Tachibana is less surprised by that than by how insanely perfect the heroine (her new best friend) is, or how weird the four love interests are. Shoujo, it turns out, is incredibly unrealistic when viewed from the inside. But at least she has a chance to break out of her fate as the humble side character...right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>DISCLAIMER:<br/>I stumbled across this great manhwa called "Inso's Law" and the comic based on it (with the same name) a few weeks ago. This fanfiction is very much a close-copy of that story, with the setting in shoujo anime instead of Korean webcomics, and the characters Japanese instead of Korean, since that's what I'm more familiar with. The original manhwa seems relatively unknown (and you should check it out!!) and the only English translations I've been able to find are...well, terrible, to say the least. Ergo, I started writing down the story myself, giving it my own twist and original style, slightly different characters, etc, because I was really enjoying the story and wanted to practice my own writing a bit (i.e. your stereotypical fanfiction). It was meant to only be a fun side thing, but it's quickly growing into something much bigger, so I'm putting it on here to share. However, the plot, characters, etc are still very much the original author's for the most part, and this is honestly just a fun experiment I'm doing to improve my own writing.</p>
<p>    So (if you've made it this far) please keep that in mind when reading, and if you've never read Inso's Law, I hope you enjoy this parody-of-a-parody by yours truly! Please check out the original and support the author!</p>
<p>    -SpiritofaRose</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><a id="_Toc39564540" name="_Toc39564540"></a>Prologue</p>
<p>It’s a perfect May morning. </p>
<p>The air still carries a faint chill, but the sunlight spilling over the towering rooftops is warm on the two girls’ faces. The breeze tugging on their scarves has the bittersweet tang of cherry blossoms. </p>
<p>Sayuri lifts her face up to the rising sun and sighs deeply. “It’s so pretty.”</p>
<p>“Mm.” Michi glances at her phone. “Come on, we don’t want to miss the train.”</p>
<p>“The boys can wait,” Sayuri says dreamily. She’s standing in a puddle of sunlight, her eyes closed, face tilted up. The sunlight soaks into her ivory skin, curling along the dark line of her lashes, the delicate slope of her nose, turning her dark blonde hair into a golden halo. <em>Beautiful</em> is too casual a word; on mornings like these, Sayuri Ichijo is angelic. </p>
<p>Michi ignores the now-familiar prick of jealousy. “Come on,” she says again, plucking a cherry blossom off her friend’s hair. Three more blossoms promptly settle into a tiny crown. Michi sighs. “Yuri…”</p>
<p>Sayuri opens her eyes and beams up at her. “Okay,” she says, threading her arm through Michi’s. “Let’s go!”</p>
<p>The chill in the air has vanished by the time the train station appears at the top of the hill. Four figures wait beneath the awning. The tallest one steps forward, shading his eyes against the rising sun. “Yuri!”</p>
<p>Sayuri’s face lights. She breaks into a run. Michi watches her throw herself into Kaname’s arms, her laugh pealing in the clear morning air. The three other boys crowd around her. Jirou is already at Kaname’s elbow, grinning, the sunlight flashing on his pale hair. Tatsuya is hanging back, fiddling with his headphones. Nagisa is jumping up and down like a toddler, waving frantically.</p>
<p>Michi slows her pace. The perfect spring morning, the warm cherry blossom breeze, the sound of voices…</p>
<p> She stops, takes a deep breath, tries to take it all in before the perfect May morning goes back to an ordinary spring day, and the spell breaks. </p>
<p><em>Because the spell </em>will <em>break, one day...</em></p>
<p>The electronic reverberation of a train sliding into the station beneath her feet shatters the moment. “Michi!” Sayuri is waving impatiently. “Come on! The train’s about to leave!”</p>
<p>The boys are all looking at her now. Nagisa is trotting towards her, beaming, his curly blond hair all untidy. Kaname is still shading his eyes, peering at her as if to ask what’s taking so long. Tatsuya’s face is hidden beneath the brim of his cap, but she can feel his eyes on her as he waits. Even Jirou is watching, a mocking smile on his handsome face. “Come on, slowpoke! You’re going to make us late!”</p>
<p><em>The spell </em>will <em>break, one day…</em></p>
<p>Sayuri’s green eyes are aglow in the sunlight, warm, expectant. It’s still a perfect May morning, just like it’s been for every single May for the past three years. The spell still holds. </p>
<p>Michi breaks into a run. </p><hr/>
<p>Chapter One</p>
<p>The spell begins on a perfect May morning, when Michi is twelve.</p>
<p>She stares at the uniform draped neatly over the chair. “Mom?” she yells, voice crackling.</p>
<p>“What?” Mom yells back from downstairs. </p>
<p>“MOM!”</p>
<p>Footsteps thump up the stairs. Mom sticks her head into the room, rice flour smeared across her cheek. <em>“What?” </em>she says irritably, wiping her floury hands on her apron. “I’m making your lunch–”</p>
<p>“Where’s my uniform?”</p>
<p>“What are you talking about? It’s right there.”</p>
<p>“That’s the wrong one! My uniform was blue. And it was a sailor suit, remember?” Michi hugs her arms over her rumpled pajamas. “You must have gotten the wrong one.”</p>
<p>“Michi, that’s the same uniform you tried on last week when we had it fitted.” Mom squints at her. “Were you up all night watching anime again? You’re half asleep.”</p>
<p>“The uniform was blue, not white,” Michi whines. “I remember. And it didn’t have a jacket like that.”</p>
<p>Mom glances at the uniform again. “The jacket does look a little bigger than I remember,” she says dubiously. “I can hem it up some tonight. Is that what you’re fussing about?”</p>
<p>“Mom, look at it!”</p>
<p>“I <em>am </em>looking at it. Michi, I don’t have time for this. Hurry up and get dressed. You’re going to be late for your first day of middle school.” Mom ducks out again. </p>
<p>Michi glares at the uniform. It’s <em>definitely </em>different. The uniform for Yukigaoka Junior High had a navy skirt, not a beige one, and it didn’t have a white shirt, or a black jacket. The jacket is long and tailored and hangs to her skirt hem. </p>
<p><em>It’ll be too big, </em>she thinks,<em> Mom bought the wrong one by mistake. </em>But the uniform fits perfectly. She stares at herself in the mirror. The black jacket hugs her skinny frame. Her face is wan beneath its freckles, her eyes dark bruises beneath her bangs. Her small pointed chin pokes out, turtle-like, from her short dark hair. She looks like a cosplayer from some vampire anime. A <em>bad </em>one. </p>
<p><em>It’s the wrong uniform, </em>she thinks again, but doubt wriggles uncomfortably at the back of her mind. </p>
<p>Mom doesn’t say anything about the uniform, just tucks her lunch box into her new backpack, kisses her forehead, pats down her bangs, and ushers her out the door. “Have a good first day,” she says, and smiles at the girl standing in the apartment doorway across from theirs. “You too, Sayuri-chan.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, Tachibana-san!” the girl chirps. Michi stares. She hadn’t known there was a family living across from hers, or that Mom knew them –but she forgets to ask Mom, because the girl across from her is the prettiest human being she’s ever seen.  </p>
<p>The girl looks about her age, but the similarity ends there. She’s half and head shorter than Michi, in a dainty, doll-like kind of way, with delicate features and perfect porcelain skin and wide, ethereal green eyes. Thick blonde waves tumble past her tiny waist. She’s wearing the same black-and-white uniform as Michi.</p>
<p>“Michi!” she says, tugging at Michi’s limp hands. Even her voice is too beautiful to be real. Michi’s mind goes immediately to the shapeshifting monster from her parents’ movie last night. That creepy lady had a pretty voice, too. And dimples. This girl has dimples. She’s never seen a real person with dimples before.</p>
<p>She’s too distracted by the dimples to say anything. Mom is still talking. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Sayuri-chan. Michi overslept her alarm. I hope you two won’t be late. Will your brother be walking you to school?”</p>
<p><em>The creepy lady had green eyes, too</em>, Michi thinks, staring at them curiously. The girl’s eyes shimmer, even in the dimly lit hallway.  </p>
<p>“He already left. He’s on the student council, so he has to go early to help set up the classroom.”</p>
<p>
  <em>The creepy lady didn’t have blonde hair, though…her hair is so pretty. </em>
</p>
<p>“Ah, I see. Tell him I said congratulations! Your family should come over for dinner tonight. I haven’t seen your father in a while.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, I will! Dad’s been really busy lately with work, but I’m sure he’d love to have dinner.”</p>
<p>
  <em>I’ve never seen a girl my age with blonde hair before.</em>
</p>
<p>“I don’t want to make you late. Be careful with traffic.” Mom nudges Michi. She stumbles forward obediently. The pretty girl is still holding her hand with an iron grip.</p>
<p>“Goodbye, Tachibana-san!” she says, and drags Michi after her. Michi twists to look over her shoulder as the elevator doors slide shut behind her. Mom’s smiling face vanishes from view. Michi blinks.</p>
<p><em>I’m being abducted, </em>she thinks, and feels vaguely offended. <em>And Mom didn’t notice. </em></p>
<p>The girl keeps up a steady stream of chatter as they walk to school. She talks about how exciting it is to start junior high, and how the cafeteria bread is supposed to be really good there, and whether the classes will be difficult. Michi nods, barely listening. She’s still processing her kidnapping.</p>
<p>“Have you finished <em>Snow White with the Black Hair</em> yet?” the girl asks. Michi refocuses. “What?”</p>
<p>The girl tilts her head. <em>Sayuri</em>, Michi remembers, <em>that’s what Mom called her</em>. “You said you only had two more episodes to go. Is that what you stayed up late watching?”</p>
<p>“N-no,” Michi stammers. “I –I haven’t finished it yet.”</p>
<p>“We can watch it together, then!” Sayuri squeezes her hand. “The ending is so good. You’ll like it.”</p>
<p>Michi stares at her. “What?” Sayuri says, smiling. She pats her cheek self-consciously. “Do I have something on my face?”</p>
<p>“<em>I</em> told you?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, last night. I told you to go ahead and finish it without me since dinner was running late.” Sayuri’s forehead crinkles. “How late <em>did</em> you stay up?”</p>
<p>Michi pulls her hand free. Sayuri stops walking. “Michi? What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>
  <em>I have never seen this girl in my life. </em>
</p>
<p>“Michi?”</p>
<p>Passersby’s part around them. Michi looks around wildly. The sunlight glints sharply off the looming buildings above her. The hum of people and traffic throbs around her. Sayuri’s green eyes are brilliantly, inhumanly bright in front of her. “Michi?” she says again, taking Michi’s hands. Her fingers are small and soft and warm. Michi shivers.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” she says. “I stayed up too late. That’s all.”</p>
<p>Sayuri still looks concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Michi shivers again. “Let’s go.”</p>
<p><em>I must be dreaming, </em>she thinks. <em>I must have fallen asleep watching that weird anime, and still haven’t woken up. </em></p>
<p>The streets, even the people around her are consolingly familiar. Yukigaoka Junior High is only a block down from Yukigaoka Elementary. She’s walked this way all her life. The creeping feeling of déjà vu grows.</p>
<p><em>Dreaming, </em>she thinks again, and she must be right, because when they turn the corner a road she’s never seen before appears in front of them. Sleek white buildings loom at the top of the hill, surrounded by high black gates. <em>Rose Academy</em> is carved in bold letters into the marble gateposts. Sakuras in full bloom frame either side of the road, their pale pink branches stretching out towards each other. Students in the exotic black-and-white uniform fall in step around them, chattering and laughing.</p>
<p>Michi realizes she does know this place. She’s seen it in every shoujo anime she’s ever watched. The déjà vu grows stronger. She follows Sayuri up to the gates, feeling more lost in the dream than ever. Maybe she shouldn’t have watched that weird harem anime last night.</p>
<p>Sayuri tightens her grip on her hand. A few boys are staring at them, Michi realizes. No, not at <em>them</em>. A boy in front of them almost trips over his own feet, craning his head back to stare wide-eyed at Sayuri. Michi has never seen a boy her age stare at a girl before. The boys in her old class just screamed about cooties and threw crayons at her.</p>
<p>She glances sideways. Sayuri’s bright green eyes are fixed steadily on the gates. Her chin is high, her fingers wrapped tight around Michi’s wrist. An unfelt breeze stirs her hair. Cherry blossom petals swirl gently around her.</p>
<p>Michi plucks one out of the air, fascinated. The breeze promptly spits a petal into her mouth. She sputters, her hand falling out of Sayuri’s. The other girl glances back at her, reaching out.</p>
<p>And then the dream <em>shifts</em>.</p>
<p>Michi stumbles. It feels as though the ground is yanked out from under her. Time stutters. An invisible force pushes her back.</p>
<p>And then time speeds back up. Sayuri’s fingers miss hers by an inch. Michi staggers into what feels like a brick wall and sits down heavily on the pavement, disoriented. “Ow.”</p>
<p>The brick wall moves. It has shoes, and white pants, and a long tailored black jacket. She looks up into dark blue eyes, in the most beautiful face she’s ever seen.</p>
<p>Her voice shoots up an octave. “Sorry!”</p>
<p>The boy stares down at her. His eyes are so dark they’re almost black in the shadow of the sun behind him. His face is even paler than Sayuri’s, white against his jet-black hair.</p>
<p>She’s suddenly aware of the stares and whispers surrounding them.</p>
<p>“Did you see that?”</p>
<p>“She totally did that on purpose.”</p>
<p>“I know, right? She must be so desperate, stumbling into Prince Tatsuya like that.”</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Michi stammers again, her face bright red.</p>
<p>“S’ okay,” the boy mutters. He reaches down awkwardly. Sayuri beats him to it. “Are you okay, Michi?” she asks anxiously, almost yanking Michi to her feet. “Are you hurt?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine!” Michi grabs her hands as the other girl tries to brush off her skirt. Some of the onlookers giggle. “Really!”</p>
<p>Sayuri frowns up at the boy. “You should be more careful,” she says indignantly. “You could have hurt her.”</p>
<p>The boy shifts. “Sorry,” he mumbles, a dull flush creeping into his pale cheeks. Sayuri grabs Michi’s wrist. “C’mon. We’re going to be late for class,” she says.</p>
<p>“It wasn’t his fault,” Michi protests, stumbling after her. Sayuri shrugs. “He needs to be more careful where he’s going, anyway. He knocked you over.”</p>
<p>“I bumped into him,” Michi says, turning red all over again. Sayuri ignores her. “I have to stop by the faculty office,” she says after a long moment. “Kaname asked me to pick up the worksheets for him. Do you remember our class number?”</p>
<p>Michi nods automatically. Sayuri squeezes her hand. “See you in a bit,” she says, and trots off, leaving a trail of wide eyes and envious stares.</p>
<p>Michi looks around at the unfamiliar hallway. She vaguely remembers walking past rows of white lockers and changing her shoes, and going up a staircase…to wherever she is now. She squints at the sign over the nearest door. Storage closet.</p>
<p>“Um,” she says, as a cluster of students walk past.</p>
<p>“UM,” she says a little louder, to the three girls walking towards her. “Excuse me…”</p>
<p>The girls exchange glances. One of them leans over and whispers in her friend’s ear, still looking at Michi. The girl’s friend steps closer. “Hey, you. You’re new here, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>Michi nods. <em>They must be upperclassmen,</em> she thinks gratefully. <em>They’ll know where the class lists are.</em></p>
<p>The girl takes another step forward. She’s looming over Michi now, her face thrust close to hers. Michi blinks. “Um–“</p>
<p>“This is Rose Academy,” the girl states. Michi nods again. It makes sense. She’s always wanted to go to a private academy.</p>
<p>“Only the <em>elite</em> go here,” one of the other girls interjects. “And everyone knows you <em>never</em> go near one of the Princes.”</p>
<p>Michi blinks. <em>The what now</em>.</p>
<p>“Oh. My. God,” the third girl squeals, seeing her blank face. “She doesn’t know who the Princes are!”</p>
<p>“Are you <em>sure</em> you go here?” The first girl crosses her arms. “<em>Everyone</em> at Rose Academy knows the Princes, even though they’re only first-years. We have the best Princes in the district this year.”</p>
<p>“Of course she knows,” the second girl says, rolling her eyes. “She totally threw herself into Prince Tatsuya on purpose.”</p>
<p>“Who?” Michi says. All three girls round on her.</p>
<p>“Everyone knows you can never approach a Prince unless they talk to you first,” the first girl says, as if reading off a rulebook. “That means they’ve fallen madly in love with you from afar and you’ll get married and live happily ever after. But the Princes have <em>never</em> spoken to anyone.”</p>
<p>“We’re the Prince Tatsuya Protection Squad,” the second girl chimes in. “We’ve known him since elementary school. We make sure no one tries to harass him.”</p>
<p>“Like <em>you</em> did,” the third girl spits.</p>
<p>Things click in Michi’s brain. <em>The pretty boy is a prince. And I walked right into him. And they</em> –she looks up into three sneering faces with dawning understanding– <em>they’re the crazy fan club. Makes sense. Wasn’t there a crazy fan club in the anime last night? And princes, I think. Some weird vampire reverse-harem thing</em> –</p>
<p>“We’re going to give you a pass, just this once, because you’re new,” the first girl says. “You should be grateful.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Thank you.” Michi remembers why she approached them. “Um, do any of you know where the class lists are?”</p>
<p>“Faculty rooms. First door on the left downstairs,” the second girl says, dropping the condescending tone for a moment. Michi brightens. “Thanks.”</p>
<p>“Don’t forget!” one of them calls after her. “Never try to approach Prince Tatsuya again!”</p>
<p>And with that weird threat echoing after her, the dream shifts again.</p>
<p>“Ow,” Michi says, resigned to smacking into brick walls at this point. There’s an audible gasp behind her. She cranes her head back.</p>
<p>For a split second she thinks it’s the same boy again. The same black shoes, the same long white pants and tailored jacket. But the eyes looking down at her are a clear, icy grey-green.</p>
<p>Michi catches her breath.</p>
<p>The boy from before had been beautiful. But this boy –this boy is <em>gorgeous</em>.</p>
<p>He towers over her, all angular features and cupid’s-bow lips and those breathtakingly polychromatic eyes. The light glints off his silver hair –not platinum, not a trick of the light, <em>silver</em>, like an anime character. She stares. His beautiful features twist with scorn. “Watch where you’re going.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be mean, Jirou,” someone else says. A small, tanned hand is thrust before her; she takes it and finds herself face-to-face with mischievous amber eyes. The other boy is a few centimeters shorter than her, with curly blond hair and a wide, smiling mouth and freckles sprinkled across his snub nose. His voice is high and cheerful. “Sorry about that. Are you alright?”</p>
<p>“It’s Prince Nagisa,” one of the girls behind Michi whispers.</p>
<p>“And Prince Jirou,” another one whimpers.</p>
<p>The boy tilts his head. He reminds Michi of a puppy, tail wagging. “Jirou, you should apologize,” he says, elbowing his friend. The tall boy gives her an icy stare. “We’re going to be late for class,” he mutters, looking away again. “Let’s go.”</p>
<p>“Sorry about him,” the blond boy says brightly, ignoring him. “I’m Ryugazaki Nagisa. You can call me Nagisa, though. This is Kirishima Jirou. He isn’t really awake yet.”</p>
<p>“I’m <em>right here</em>,” Jirou grumbles. Nagisa goes on as if he hadn’t heard, “He doesn’t remember what class he’s in, and I wasn’t here yesterday for the opening ceremony, so we’re trying to find the faculty rooms. Jirou doesn’t have a sense of direction, though, so I think we’re lost. What’s your name?”</p>
<p>“First door on the left, downstairs,” Michi says, trying to keep up with the stream of chatter. Both boys stare at her. She flushes. “The faculty rooms, I mean,” she stammers. “I’m trying to find them, too. I don’t know my class number either. I’m Tachibana Michi,” she adds belatedly, and blushes all over again.</p>
<p>“Really?” Nagisa seizes her hands and beams at her. “Want to come with us?”</p>
<p>One of the girls behind Michi makes a strangled sound. The tall boy opens his mouth to protest. Michi beats him to it. “Sure!”</p>
<p>“Great!” Nagisa seems to notice the girls behind Michi for the first time. He flashes them a friendly smile, still holding both of Michi’s hands. “Downstairs, right?”</p>
<p>“Um – “</p>
<p>“Let’s go!”</p>
<p>Michi risks a glance back over her shoulder. Two of the girls are still swooning from Nagisa’s smile. The third looks murderous. She clutches Nagisa’s hand and hurries after him. The tall boy trails behind them, glaring at her back. “I’m <em>not</em> lost,” he grumbles.</p>
<p>“Don’t mind Jirou. He’s always this grumpy in the morning.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Okay.”</p>
<p>“Shut up, Nagisa.”</p>
<p>Michi doesn’t look back at him. Her cheeks are still warm.</p>
<p>This is a <em>weird</em> dream.</p>
<p>Nagisa leads them straight to the faculty offices. Michi hovers behind him as the teacher flips through the class lists. “Ryugazaki, you said?”</p>
<p>“Yes sir!”</p>
<p>“Right. You’re in class 1-A. So are Kirishima-san and Tachibana-san.” The teacher closes the binder. “Ichijo-kun, could you show them to class?”</p>
<p>“Of course.” A boy emerges from behind the row of filing cabinets. The world sways pleasantly around Michi. Like the others, he’s inhumanely pretty for a middle schooler. His dark green eyes crinkle as he smiles at them. “I’m Ichijo Kaname, the president of class 1-A. It’s nice to meet you. Shall we go?”</p>
<p>Nagisa chatters on the way, introducing them all. “And this is Michi-chan,” he finishes, patting Michi enthusiastically on the back. Kaname smiles wryly. “Yes. Hello, Michi-chan.” There’s an odd note to his voice, almost teasing. Michi doesn’t have time to wonder about it, because Kaname is ushering them all into the classroom, and she almost trips over her own feet as a blur of blonde curls and green eyes practically tackles her.</p>
<p>“There you are!” Sayuri half-yanks her over to the second row of desks by the far window. “I was about to go look for you. Class is about to start! Did you get lost <em>again?</em>”</p>
<p>“She forgot which class she was in,” Kaname says, taking the seat behind them. The odd note is in his voice again.</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t have left you alone.” Sayuri sighs. “Thanks for finding her, Kaname.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Michi mumbles.</p>
<p>The warning bell rings. Chairs clatter as students start to settle down. Michi sees Nagisa and his friend sit down in the center aisle across from them. Jirou still looks grumpy. Nagisa sees her and waves, beaming. The girls in front of her squeal. “Kyaa!”</p>
<p>Michi glances over her shoulder, curious, and hastily turns back around. The black-haired boy she’d bumped into earlier is sitting directly behind her. He doesn’t seem to notice. Like everyone else, he’s staring at her seatmate.</p>
<p>“So what happened?” Sayuri whispers, oblivious to the stares. Michi shifts uncomfortably as heads swivel towards her. “Nothing,” she whispers back. “Just got lost.”</p>
<p>Sayuri shakes her head. “Silly,” she says affectionately. “You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached.”</p>
<p>“You sound like my mom,” Michi mumbles. Sayuri wrinkles her nose. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>“Don’t apologize.” Michi opens her mouth to ask how she knows the class president already, but the sound of the door sliding open interrupts her. The teacher looks around at the rows of expectant faces and grimaces apologetically.</p>
<p>“Sorry, everyone,” he says breathlessly, trying to fix his tie with one hand. Michi bites the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t thought she was the kind of person who daydreamed about their homeroom teacher, but the man standing in front of the board is almost as pretty as the boys sitting around her. He looks young, his dress shirt rumpled, his dark hair losing its slicked-back appearance. He runs a hand over it, trying vainly to flatten it again. “I’m Shishio Mamura. I’ll be your homeroom teacher for this year.” He looks over at Kaname. “Class president?”</p>
<p>“All rise,” Kaname says. Michi looks around as chairs clatter. The faces of her other classmates aren’t blurred, the way they usually are in dreams. Everyone else looks normal: dark hair, dark eyes, all the usual shapes and sizes. Compared to the five people surrounding her, though, they all blur together. The four boys and Sayuri shine like some hidden spotlight is fixed on them.</p>
<p>Michi suddenly remembers her reflection in the mirror. How small and ugly she looked in the exotic black-and-white uniform.</p>
<p>She knows it’s just a dream, but it would have been nice to have been the pretty one for once…</p>
<p>Chairs scrape as they all sit back down. The teacher starts to lecture. Michi wriggles in her seat. All of this is just reminding her that she actually has to go to school when she wakes up.</p>
<p>Her eyelids start to droop. She rests her cheek on one hand and watches the teacher scribble on the blackboard. Sayuri is listening intently, tapping her pencil against her chin as she takes notes. Michi closes her eyes.</p>
<p>And then the dream <em>shifts</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please drop some kudos or comments below (: I've really been enjoying transcribing/writing this (and yes, some parts are mine, lol) so hopefully I'll be able to finish it before I pick up my main story again (yes, my Oracle readers, it's not dead, just resting, I swear d:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Two</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The jolt almost topples her out of her seat. Michi bolts upright. Sayuri gives her a quizzical look. Shishio-sensei goes on talking as if nothing happened.</p>
<p>Michi presses a hand over her thudding heart. That time was worse than the others. It felt as if the world had flattened and reshaped itself around her. She takes a deep breath and looks around. Nothing has changed. No one else seems to have noticed the fabric of reality warping around them. The boy to her right is still sneaking glances at Sayuri. His seatmate is tapping his pencil rhythmically on his paper. The girl in front of her is whispering to her neighbor. “Oh. My. God. We have Prince Jirou in our class!”</p>
<p>“I know! So lucky!” her seatmate squeals, not bothering to lower her voice.</p>
<p>A girl a row across from Michi speaks up. “Isn’t he the son of that famous CEO?”</p>
<p>“OMG, soooo hot!” her friend sighs. Michi sneaks a glance at Jirou. He’s frowning down at his notes. Shishio-sensei rambles on, blissfully unaware of the conversation growing louder behind him.</p>
<p>“Is that Prince Tatsuya?”</p>
<p>“Isn’t he that famous prince from Cross Elementary?”</p>
<p>“He’s <em>sooo</em> mysterious. My friend says he never talks to girls, ever!”</p>
<p>Michi grimaces. She knows what’s going on now. Every shoujo anime has it. She’s never thought about how weird it is until now.</p>
<p>“The class president is super cute!”</p>
<p>“Maybe we can ask him to help us with our homework?”</p>
<p>“Oh my gosh, can you imagine?”</p>
<p>“That’s Prince Nagisa! I heard he’s secretly a genius!”</p>
<p>“My older brother says he has perfect recall!”</p>
<p>“Oh my gosh, that’s so cool!”</p>
<p>“I know, right?”</p>
<p>A boy joins the whispers. “Who’s <em>she?</em>”</p>
<p>“That’s Ichijo Sayuri. I heard she entered as valedictorian.”</p>
<p>“No way. She’s super cute!”</p>
<p>“I know! Dude, I wanna ask her out so bad.”</p>
<p>Michi glances at Sayuri. She’s still blissfully oblivious. Michi groans inwardly and goes back to staring out the window.</p>
<p>“As you can see, with the introduction of the Industrial Revolution,” Shishio-sensei says blandly in the background. </p>
<p>The girl in front of Michi leans her chair against Michi’s desk. “Hey,” she whispers. “You came in with the Princes, right? Do you know them?”</p>
<p>“No,” Michi says quickly. “I just bumped into them in the hall. Never met them before.”</p>
<p>“Aww.” The girl flips her long dark hair over her shoulder. She’s pretty, in a fair, thin kind of way, with a narrow little face and big, darkly-lashed brown eyes. “That’s too bad. The only ones who seem to know them are that crazy fan club group. The Prince Tatsuya Protection Squad.”</p>
<p>“Yeahhh…”</p>
<p>“Still,” the girl leans forward and lowers her voice, “I can kinda get it, y’know? Especially Prince Jirou.”</p>
<p>“Yeahhh…”</p>
<p>The girl flashes her a smile. “I’m Tsubara Aiko, by the way. What’s your name?”</p>
<p>“Tachibana Michi.” Michi glances nervously at the front of the room, but Shishio-sensei is still talking to the blackboard. Sayuri shifts besides her. “We shouldn’t be talking during class,” she whispers. Michi blushes. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>Aiko gives Sayuri a long, critical look. “Sorry,” she mutters, and turns back around. Her seatmate, a tall girl with blonde streaks in her hair, leans over to whisper in her ear. Aiko rolls her eyes and nods. The other girl twists to glower at Sayuri. If Sayuri notices, she doesn’t show it. She’s gone back to taking notes.</p>
<p>Michi gingerly relaxes again. The conversation has died out, its indirect character introduction complete. The boy to her right adjusts his glasses. Aiko flips her long hair over her shoulder. She sees Michi watching and winks. Michi hastily drops her gaze, her ears pink.</p>
<p>She waits all class for the dream to shift again, but nothing changes. Shishio-sensei goes on talking about the Industrial Revolution, and girls sneak blushing glances at the princes, and boys sneak blushing glances at Sayuri, and Sayuri takes notes, and Michi watches it all with vague, dreamlike detachment, and waits for the world to crumple and twist around her. It never does.</p>
<p>The lunch bell jerks her out of her daze. She looks up into icy grey-blue eyes.</p>
<p>“Oh. You’re the lost girl,” Jirou says dispassionately, recognizing her. His gaze flickers over to her seatmate. “Ichijo Sayuri?”</p>
<p>Michi closes her mouth with a snap. Sayuri looks up calmly from her lunchbox. “Can I help you?”</p>
<p>Jirou folds his arms across his chest. “I heard you entered at the top of the class,” he says, ignoring Michi completely. She shrinks down in her seat. Behind her, the class president looks up sharply. Prince Tatsuya opens one eye sleepily.</p>
<p>Sayuri doesn’t seem intimidated. “Yes. Why?”</p>
<p>“Enjoy the spot while it lasts. You got lucky this time, that’s all.” Jirou smirks. “I’ll show you how inferior you actually are.”</p>
<p>Michi gapes up at him. Sayuri doesn’t bat an eye. “Who says it’s luck?” She smiles sweetly. “I look forward to your…<em>attempt</em>.”</p>
<p>Jirou scoffs. “I– “</p>
<p>“Hi!” Nagisa shoves him out of the way. “I’m Ryugazaki Nagisa, but you can call me Nagisa.” He thrusts a hand at Sayuri. “What’s your name?”</p>
<p>“…Ichijo Sayuri,” Sayuri says, bemused. Nagisa shakes her hand enthusiastically. “It’s really nice to meet you, Sayuri-chan! This is Jirou. No one ever talks back to him like that, cause he’s super rich and scary. You must be really brave!”</p>
<p>“I’m right here,” Jirou growls. Nagisa ignores him. “Hi, Michi-chan!” he says, noticing her in Jirou’s shadow. “Remember me?”</p>
<p>Sayuri looks at her curiously. Michi manages a shrug before Nagisa barrels on. “We met in the hallway earlier! Remember, you were lost and we were lost and– “</p>
<p>“I remember,” Michi says hastily. Jirou snorts. “It was an hour ago, Nagisa. Just because <em>you</em> have a ridiculously good memory doesn’t mean everyone else has the retention span of a goldfish.”</p>
<p>“I know!” Nagisa says brightly. “Although, Jirou, didn’t you forget which class– “</p>
<p>“I’m hungry. Let’s go.” Jirou drags him off, hand clamped firmly over the shorter boy’s mouth. Nagisa wriggles. “You guys wanna come to the cafet– “</p>
<p>“Absolutely not.”</p>
<p>“Aww, Jirou, I’m trying to make friends.”</p>
<p>“No, you’re ingratiating yourself with the enemy, you moron.”</p>
<p>“Aww.” Nagisa waves as Jirou hauls him out the door. “Bye, Sayuri-chan!”</p>
<p>Michi watches his shoes vanish from view. There’s a low chuckle behind her. “Making enemies already, Yuri?”</p>
<p>Sayuri shrugs. “I guess,” she says. “Do you know them, Kaname?”</p>
<p>“Kirishima and Ryugazaki? No. They seem friendly enough, though.” The class president taps his seatmate on the shoulder. “Tatsuya, did you bring a lunch?”</p>
<p>The black-haired boy shakes his head. Kaname nods and stands. “Cafeteria it is. Sayuri, do you want anything?”</p>
<p>Sayuri shakes her head. Kaname glances at Michi and raises his eyebrows.</p>
<p>She stares at him blankly. Sayuri nudges her. “Do you want anything?”</p>
<p>“Oh! No, thanks.”</p>
<p>“Alright.” Kaname slings his bag over his shoulder. “Coming, Tatsuya?”</p>
<p>Tatsuya nods. Michi watches them file out, bemused. <em>Does </em>everyone<em> here know each other…?</em></p>
<p>She smacks her forehead. <em>Duh. It’s a dream. </em>She sighs. <em>I want to wake up now…</em></p>
<p>Warm fingers brush her bangs aside. Sayuri frowns. “You don’t <em>feel</em> feverish,” she says. “Are you feeling okay? You’ve been really out of it all day.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Just tired.” Michi shakes her head, trying to wake herself up. Sayuri doesn’t look convinced. “How late did you stay up?” she asks.</p>
<p>“Um…” Michi squints. “Late.” She changes the subject quickly. “So you know those guys?”</p>
<p>Sayuri blinks. “Kirishima and Ryugazaki? No, I just met them, remember?” She taps Michi’s forehead. “Are you <em>sure</em> you’re awake, Mich?”</p>
<p>“No,” Michi says. “Not really. I think I’m still asleep, actually.”</p>
<p>Sayuri laughs. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she says, nudging her playfully. “Come on, pull out your lunch. Maybe food will wake you up.”</p>
<p>Her fried rice smells <em>amazing</em>. Sayuri watches like a contented mother, chin propped on one palm, while she devours the entire bento. She’s never had a sense of smell in a dream before. Or taste, come to think of it. Michi chews thoughtfully. Yep, definitely taste.</p>
<p>The breeze from the cracked window ruffles her hair. She can smell the heavy lilac tang of the cherry blossoms outside. The sunlight outlines every hair on Sayuri’s golden head. Her green eyes are uncannily luminescent as she smiles, perfect pink lips curling upwards.</p>
<p>The first niggle of doubt comes creeping in. Michi looks down. Her own hands are reassuringly familiar on the sleek wood of the desk. Her skin is still pale from the winter months, her fingers long and thin, the back of her hands and wrists speckled with freckles here and there.</p>
<p>She takes a deep breath and closes her fingers over her palms, grounding herself in them.</p>
<p>
  <em>Just a dream.</em>
</p>
<p>Afternoon classes blur by. The boys finally stop craning their heads to stare at Sayuri. The girls stop whispering about the princes. There’s only Shishio-sensei’s quiet voice over the gentle scratch of pencils and the sleepy after-lunch haze of the clock ticking down the minutes.</p>
<p>The sunlight filtering through the window is warm on Michi’s cheek. Sayuri’s knee taps gently against hers. For a few sleepy hours, she forgets she’s dreaming.</p>
<hr/>
<p>They walk home together. Sayuri is oddly quiet. She keeps giving Michi concerned glances out of the corner of her eye. Michi finds herself rambling, trying to fill the awkward silence. She has plenty to talk about: one of the bolder boys, trying to pass Sayuri a note during geometry class, had managed to hit her squarely on the back of the head. Shishio-sensei hadn’t noticed that, or saw her flinch awake so hard she almost toppled off her seat, but everyone heard Nagisa giggle. Michi, mortified, stayed hunched so low in her seat for the rest of the day that her back still aches.</p>
<p>They stop in front of their apartments. Michi breaks off mid-chatter.</p>
<p>“Get some rest, okay?” Sayuri squeezes her hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“See you then.”</p>
<p>Mom is frying mackerel in the kitchen when she comes in. “Have a good first day?” she asks, looking up from the stove. Michi nods. “Hey, Mom,” she says casually, slipping off her shoes, “How long have the Ichijo’s lived across from us?”</p>
<p>“Oh, goodness.” Mom pauses to brush a stray hair away with her wrist. “They must have moved in when you were only a toddler. Their oldest son used to babysit you, remember?”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Michi dumps her backpack at her feet and wanders around the counter. Mom plucks a curling strip of mackerel off the stove. “Why?”</p>
<p>“Just curious.” Michi stands on tiptoe to reach a cup. </p>
<p>“If you’re making tea, add some hot water for me,” Mom says. </p>
<p>“I will.” Michi adds water and wanders back over to pick up her backpack. “Call me down when it’s dinner time.”</p>
<p>“Starting study habits early?” Mom raises an eyebrow. “Good for you. Dinner will be in about half an hour.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” </p>
<p>Her room is awash in the late afternoon glow. Michi sets her backpack on her bed, moves mechanically through the ritual of changing into sweatpants and folding her uniform neatly over the chair, and sits down at her desk. </p>
<p>The homework is only a couple of worksheets, but she can’t get her mind to focus. The niggling doubt from earlier has taken root. Her thoughts keep circling vaguely back to it.</p>
<p>She sets down her pencil with a sigh. <em>Of course it’s a dream, </em>her sensible self says. <em>People like that don’t actually exist. No one really acts like that. Princes and crazy fan clubs and gorgeous heroines </em>– <em>none of that’s real. Dreams just always feel real when you’re in them. </em></p>
<p><em>But that’s because you never think you’re dreaming, </em>the doubt whispers.</p>
<p>Michi blows out her breath and reaches over for her laptop. Only one way to put the doubts to rest.</p>
<p>The screen blinks to life. It’s her dad’s old work laptop, so starting it up takes forever. She groans and goes downstairs to get her tea.</p>
<p>“Dinner’s in ten minutes,” Mom says. Michi fishes the tea bag out of her cup. The smell of fried mackerel and rice is making her mouth water. “Okay.” She hesitates. “Hey, Mom?”</p>
<p>“Hmm?”</p>
<p>“Have you ever had a really, really real dream? Like you can smell and taste and everything?”</p>
<p>Mom frowns. “What, like lucid dreaming? Knowing you’re in a dream and all that?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but like…it’s <em>really</em> real. Like you know you’re dreaming, but it doesn’t <em>feel</em> like a dream.”</p>
<p>Mom shrugs. “I’m sure it can happen.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Michi sags a little. “That’s good.”</p>
<p>“Strange child,” Mom sighs. She leans across the counter and tweaks Michi’s nose. “You’re not dreaming now, you know. Here, put these on the table. Can you let your father know it’s almost time for dinner?”</p>
<p>Michi takes the stack of bowls automatically. “But how do you <em>know?”</em></p>
<p>“Know what?”</p>
<p>“That I’m not dreaming.”</p>
<p>“Because this is real, silly,” Mom says. “Go tell your father.”</p>
<p>Michi looks up into her frank dark eyes. She swallows hard. “Okay.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The laptop has finished booting up. Michi pulls up the search bar, types, fumbles, deletes the word, and tries again.</p>
<p>
  <em>Yukigaoka Junior High. </em>
</p>
<p>The elementary school pops up. She scrolls down. District events, nearby elementary schools…No sign of Yukigaoka Junior High.</p>
<p>She types in <em>Rose Academy</em>. The page takes a moment to load.</p>
<p>
  <em>Prestigious private academy, home of Japan’s elites…</em>
</p>
<p>News headlines flash.</p>
<p>
  <em>Heir to Local Corporate CEO Attending Respected Local Private School</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Child Model Saito Tatsuya at Rose Academy</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Kirishima Heir to Attend Rose Academy</em>
</p>
<p>She stares at the screen. Her fingers fumble over the keyboard.</p>
<p>
  <em>Shoujo anime. </em>
</p>
<p>The screen pops up. <em>We could not find any matches for shoujo anime. Try </em>anime<em> instead?</em></p>
<p>Slowly, she types out <em>Rose Academy Princes.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Princes of Rose Academy at Top of Popularity Rankings...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Junior High Popularity Rankings: #1 Princes of Rose Academy…</em>
</p>
<p>She pinches herself, hard, and yelps. Blood rushes back to her wrist. The glowing laptop screen is still loading sites. She slams it shut.</p>
<p>“Dinner!” Mom calls from downstairs.</p>
<p>Michi takes a deep breath. Her wrist still stings.</p>
<p>
  <em>This isn’t a dream…</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>How OCD am I? Totally not the went back to add the first chapter to the prologue so that the chapters and numbers would match kind....*whispers* help me</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <strong>Chapter Three</strong>
</h3>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The moment she says goodbye to Sayuri, Michi rushes to her room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The late afternoon sunlight dapples the white carpet. She kicks her uniform to a corner with sudden vehemence and yanks her oversized pajama shirt over her head. It takes her a minute to find her notebook, buried beneath a stack of homework and textbooks. She finally upends her backpack with a growl, scattering papers across the carpet. Her notebook lands on the bed with a thump. She grabs it, finds a pen, and plops down on her bed and starts to write.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first one is simple.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ichijo Sayuri:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<ul>
<li><em><span>Lives across the hall</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Our families are friends</span></em></li>
</ul>
<p>
  <span>It was easier today. She found out that Sayuri has read all the same books, that they’ve seen the same movies and TV shows and love the same kind of music. She’s easy to talk to, and she listens, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s never had a best friend before. She’s had a few friends in elementary school, mostly groups she was a part of, kids who liked the same stuff she did. She’s never had someone who casually links arms while walking with her, or who already knows all the songs on her iPod and which ones are her favorites, or who notices when she’s feeling uncomfortable. She’s never had someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be around her before. Especially someone like Sayuri, who made people stare as she walked past. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi pauses, and adds, </span>
</p>
<ul>
<li><em><span>Best friend?</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Known her for my whole life?</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Fake memories?</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Heroine?</span></em></li>
</ul>
<p>
  <span>She skips a few spaces, scribbles </span>
  <span>The Flower Princes</span>
  <span>, and hesitates. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryugazaki Nagisa. He had come over again today. He and Sayuri had traded class notes and talked about projects. They had made a point to include her in the conversation, even when she didn’t have anything to say. She liked Nagisa. He was fun to talk to, and had a way of making her feel comfortable even in a crowded classroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then, that made sense. He was supposed to be the likable deredere. And the only reason he had come over was because her seatmate, she’s certain now, is the main character of this story. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ryugazaki Nagisa</span>
  </em>
</p>
<ul>
<li><em><span>Deredere </span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Flower Prince</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Childhood friend of main love interest?</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Love interest?</span></em></li>
</ul>
<p>
  <span>Michi leaves a few spaces and moves on. The next one is easy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Kirishima Jirou</span>
  </em>
</p>
<ul>
<li><em><span>Most popular of the Flower Princes</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Tsundere</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Only son of CEO/wealthy family</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Academic rivals with Sayuri– main love interest?</span></em></li>
</ul>
<p>
  <span>She pauses again and taps her pen thoughtfully. The next two are harder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Saito Tatsuya</span>
  </em>
</p>
<ul>
<li><em><span>Kuudere?</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Flower Prince</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Doesn’t talk much, even to the boys</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Hasn’t spoken to Sayuri yet</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Must be rival love interest?</span></em></li>
</ul>
<p>
  <span>The last one has only a few scribbled lines. </span>
</p>
<ul>
<li><em><span>Ichigo Kaname</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Class president</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Flower Prince</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Type??</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Love interest?</span></em></li>
<li><em><span>Sayuri is friends with him?</span></em></li>
</ul>
<p>
  <span>Michi sets the pen down and sighs. It’s not much information to go off of. She racks her brain for the plots of the shoujo anime she’s seen. Of the three or four anime she’s seen, none fit this situation exactly. Even the harem anime was different. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turns the page, settles the notebook in her lap, and writes, </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shoujo anime?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Harem anime? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fake memories?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Best friend of the heroine?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>???</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stares at the list. Her head is starting to hurt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With another sigh, she tosses the notebook onto the floor and rolls onto her stomach. None of this is making sense. Maybe it’s just a dream, after all. A really long, really real dream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I am in a shoujo anime. In a world where shoujo doesn’t exist. Where shoujo cliches happen normally. And people have silver hair. And are ridiculously good-looking. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I died and reincarnated in some alternate universe.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She closes her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>...Like in a shoujo anime. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except she is definitely not the heroine. She makes a face. She’s seen it in all of the shoujos, of course. There's always that one girl that the heroine is best friends with. The heroine and her are inseparable- until the heroine falls madly in love with one of the love interests, and the plain, uninteresting best friend fades from view.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling. Shadows are starting to stretch across it. It'll be time for dinner soon. Her stomach growls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alternate universe or not, Mom still makes the best miso soup ever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe she’ll wake up tomorrow, and her uniform will be a navy sailor suit, and it will just be a weird dream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And what if I don’t?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thinks suddenly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if every day is like this? What if I’m stuck as the boring side character in some shoujo anime for the rest of my life?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sits up, swinging her legs off the side of the bed. Slowly, methodically, she picks up the papers off the floor and stacks them neatly on her desk. The textbooks are shelved on top of her dresser. She gathers up her crumpled uniform, carries it into the laundry room, and returns to her desk. Carefully, in bright blue pen, she writes on yesterday's date in her kitty-themed calendar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shoujo began today.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She straightens up again.</span>
  <em>
    <span> One day at a time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks, looking at the stack of homework beside her laptop.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Until I wake up.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <strong>Chapter Four</strong>
</h3>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Three Years Later </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a perfect May morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Michi!” Sayuri waves. “Come on! The train is about to leave!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nagisa tackles her a heartbeat later, almost knocking her off her feet. “Nee-chan!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi disentangles herself, laughing. “Nagisa, we’re going to be late!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grabs her hand. “We’ll run. Come on!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They catch up to the rest of the group just as the final call is echoing through the station. The train is almost empty, with only a few yawning passengers who gape sleepily at them. Michi can’t blame them. The four princes, as usual, seem a little too perfect compared to their ordinary surroundings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri plops down next to Kaname and promptly dozes off on his shoulder. Michi, who likes to feel the rhythm of the train swaying her, leans against the pole across from her. Nagisa comes up to stand beside her, looking far too cheerful for being awake an hour earlier than usual. Michi eyes his wild bedhead. “Did you roll right out of bed, Nagisa?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grins at her. “Yep!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Liar,” Jirou grumbles, swaying groggily on the other side of the pole. “You were up before I was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That explains </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>bedhead,” Michi says wickedly, and laughs as he growls at her. She stands on tiptoe, trying to pat down Nagisa’s curls. “Gosh, Nagisa, did you grow </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Two centimeters,” he says proudly. “I’m almost as tall as Tatsuya now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi glances over to where Tatsuya is nodding off beside Sayuri. His hoodie is pulled down low over his face, earbuds trailing to his pocket. “Tatsuya, you’re not a morning person either?” she teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tatsuya raises his head, his dark blue gaze flicking over her. “No,” he says shortly, and looks away. Jirou looks between them and raises his eyebrows. “Aw, did you guys have a fight?” he stage-whispers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Michi mutters uncomfortably. She’d forgotten about the awkwardness between her and Tatsuya since their last conversation. Now she wishes she didn’t remember. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nagisa breaks the sudden silence. “We’ll be at the beach before noon, right? We should have sushi on the beach.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri revives consciousness. “Sushi?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sushi would be good,” Michi agrees, eager to change the subject. Jirou yawns. “We can decide when we get there. We’ve still got a couple hours before we arrive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is this private beach house of yours, anyway?” Michi asks, curious. Jirou shrugs. “It’s on Nishiki beach, closer to the far end of the island. We’ll have to switch trains once we hit the outskirts of Osaka. I’ve been there a couple of times. It’s alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Michi mimics. “It’s only a private house on the beach, nothing special.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t mock the person who has the keys to the private beach house,” Jirou retorts. “I’ll make you sleep on the beach.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you lock Michi out I’m staying with her,” Sayuri yawns. Kaname chuckles. “Sleeping on the beach for the weekend it is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, guys, it’s our graduation weekend!” Nagisa protests. “We’re here to celebrate. Don’t go locking anyone out, Jirou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jirou grunts. Michi leans over to Nagisa. “He’s just grumpy ‘cause Sayuri didn’t want to sit next to him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jirou makes a face at her. She grins back. She’s grown to like all the princes, but Jirou is the only one who banters with her. She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> sure it’s friendly. “You wouldn’t make your beloved middle school friend sleep out in the cold, would you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe if she asks nicely.” Jirou curls his lip mockingly. Michi claps her hands together. “Oh great Jirou, please let this humble peasant girl–“ The train rocks, throwing her off balance. Michi squeaks and misses the pole. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jirou grabs her shoulders and propels her back upright. “Careful, you klutz.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sticks her tongue out at him and swings into a seat across from Sayuri and the others. “Jerk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Baka.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They lapse into silence, broken only by the faint rattle of the train. Michi rests her head on the padded seat and stares out the window. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>High school starts on Monday. She can’t believe it’s been three years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She flashes back to her first day of middle school, and nestles her face in her scarf to hide a smile. She’d taken it pretty well, all things considered. Even that first day– bewildered, frustrated, scared– she hadn’t broken down, hadn’t even cried. She’d taken it all one day at a time, figuring it out along the way, trying to keep up with a world that still feels a little unfamiliar, a little fantastical. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s made a lot of mistakes, too. And she still doesn’t know if she made the right choice, going along with her role in this world. Maybe she should have fought it more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Still</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks, glancing across the aisle, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it hasn’t been all bad. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri is fast asleep, her shoulders rising and falling steadily to the rhythm of the train. Her hair has lightened over the years; it tumbles over her shoulders  in golden ringlets. Her ivory skin is as flawless as ever, her delicate, ethereal features half buried in Kaname’s dark coat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kaname is resting his head on hers, his eyes closed, but Michi has the feeling he’s only pretending to nap. The dawning sunlight glints on his strawberry-blond hair. He’s cropped it short for the new school year. It makes him look older. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Movement distracts her; Jirou’s noticed her staring. He wiggles his pale brows mockingly, making wide-eyed faces at Kaname. She ignores him, pretending not to notice. Unlike Kaname, who could pass for a college student now, not much has changed about Jirou besides his height. Michi likes to tease him that he should go into basketball or volleyball if he doesn’t stop growing. He’s already passed six feet in the last few months, somehow managing to avoid the awkward gangly stage the other boys in their class are struggling through. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Figures</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks, hitching up her scarf. Tatsuya’s the same way. Both of them have broadened out over the last few months, their shoulders filling out, their features becoming more angular. Tatsuya in particular has started to look more and more like an idol, with his jet-black hair and striking dark blue eyes. He’s begun to wear face masks or jackets with the hood pulled down low over his face to avoid the random media that pop up when he’s in public. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The train rocks. Nagisa tumbles down beside her and curls up without a word, nestling his golden head on her shoulder. Michi smiles and smooths down his curls absently. Nagisa’s grown too, lately. He’s started to lose the last wisps of baby fat, his round face sharpening, his snub nose lengthening out. His shining amber eyes still remind her of a puppy. She leans her head on his and closes her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No, it hasn’t been that bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks sleepily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not since I finally stopped fighting it…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But that had been three years ago, when it all began. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Random Time Skip that is arguably necessary yet still inconvenient? You know it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <strong>Chapter Five</strong>
</h3>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>May, 2018</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Michi tiptoes out of her apartment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hallway is empty. She breathes a sigh of relief and hitches up her backpack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d stayed up late last night after finishing her homework, thinking. She still didn’t understand what was going on, but she knew one thing: if this was a shoujo, then bad things always happened to the side character. She has no desire to be caught up in any of it. She’s going to step back, observe, and figure out a plan. One that doesn’t involve her getting bullied, mysteriously kidnapped, or shoved around by the various love interests. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door across from her swings open. She freezes. Her jaw drops.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The class president looks almost as surprised to see her. “You’re up early,” he says, closing the door gently behind him. Michi closes her mouth. “I, uh, wanted to go early to study,” she stammers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why is the class president leaving Sayuri’s apartment? Is this </span>
  </em>
  <span>that </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind of shoujo?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah. Good for you. Does Sayuri know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I forgot to tell her,” Michi lies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see.” Kaname’s expression is strange. “Well, she’s still asleep. How about you text her and let her know so she doesn’t wait up for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” she mumbles, fumbling in her jacket pocket. Kaname waits for her to finish typing, his face unreadable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” he says when she’s done. “I’ll walk you to school today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walk in silence for a ways. The sun is just starting to rise over the rooftops, warming the chilly air. The sky is a clear, pale blue. It’s going to be another perfect spring day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi steals another glance at the class president. In the haze of yesterday, she hadn’t paid him much attention. She had been almost certain that Ice Boy, with his perfect grades, wealthy background, and new rivalry with Sayuri was the main love interest. She guesses not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ichijo Kaname doesn’t look like a main character from </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>kind of shoujo. He’s tall, even for his age, and she knows from the other girls’ whispering that he’s almost fourteen. His reddish-blond hair and dark green eyes are somehow familiar. His skin, unlike the other love interests, has a warm olive tone to it. He’s not as obviously good-looking as Prince Charming or Ice Boy, but his smile is friendly, and his slightly arched features are distinctive, not idiosyncratic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now, his smile is not so friendly. “Is middle school that hard already?” he asks. Michi blinks, refocusing on the conversation. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve never seen you study early before. Are the classes too hard?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, um, not really. Just trying to get some good habits, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah. Have you tried studying with Sayuri?” He smiles blandly. “She’s better at math than I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not yet.” Michi fiddles with the buttons on her jacket. Something about this person is making her skin prickle. “Are you studying early, too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “There’s a student council meeting before class.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” She falls silent again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you tell Sayuri, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind waking up early with you to study.” Again with the bland smile. “I know she likes to walk down with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” Michi says noncommittally. Kaname’s casual tone doesn’t change. “You two still haven’t recovered from your fight, have you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi shrugs, avoiding his eyes. The tall, glassy white shape of Rose Academy is appearing at the top of the hill. She resists the urge to walk faster. “I’m just...processing,” she mumbles, which technically isn’t a lie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see.” They’ve reached the hill. Other students in the striking white-and-black uniform are falling in around them, laughing and talking. Kaname abruptly rests a hand on her shoulder. The gesture is reassuring, but she feels goosebumps ripple across her skin. “I don’t know exactly what happened between you two, but I know you like to bottle things up, Michi,” he says, his green eyes suddenly grave. “Sayuri cares about you. Don’t distance yourself too much, okay?” He squeezes her shoulder and releases. “See you later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Michi says, slightly dazed from what just happened. She watches him vanish into the crowd of students streaming through the front gates, and swallows hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stepping back might not be as easy as I thought. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>To her relief, Sayuri comes in as class is just about to start. Michi bends over her backpack, pretending not to hear the other girl’s soft hello over the clatter of desks as the teacher walks in and students scramble for their seats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pretends, too, not to notice Sayuri trying to catch her eye during class, or hear her say her name as she bolts out of class the minute the bell rings. She eats her lunch outside, alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nagisa is sitting on her desk, chatting with Sayuri, when she cautiously pokes her head back inside the classroom. Sayuri spots her instantly and waves. “Hey! Michi!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi winces inwardly. “Hey,” she says guiltily, hovering on the other side of her desk. Sayuri’s clouded green eyes are anxious. “Where were you? Lunch is almost over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was such a nice day, I wanted to eat outside,” Michi lies. Her skin prickles. She can sense Kaname’s gaze on her from across the classroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should all eat outside together next time,” Nagisa volunteers. “What do you think, Michi-chan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” she says helplessly. She backs away, still avoiding Sayuri’s eyes. “Bathroom. Be right back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The restroom is crowded as usual. Groups of girls hang out by the sinks, checking their reflections in the mirrors and chattering about which one of the Flower Princes looked at them today. Michi, who has never fussed much about her appearance, is a little annoyed at having to inch her way through to wash her hands. Yesterday, when she was in here with Sayuri, everyone gave them plenty of space. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At least no one’s glaring</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks with a sigh, rolling her jacket sleeves back. Bullying the main character and her friends is one of the most common shoujo cliches, she knows. She’s already gotten some dirty looks from the girls in her class whenever Nagisa comes up to talk to her and Sayuri. Aoi, the half-Korean girl who sits in the front row ahead of her, looks downright murderous at times. She’s the current head of the Prince Nagisa-kun Protection Squad, according to the latest whispers. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>means, Michi has no idea. No one’s tried to invite her into their squad yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She finishes washing her hands and reaches for the paper towels. One of the girls in the center of the cluster recognizes her. “Hey! Tachibana, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aiko, her dark hair twisted up into a braided crown today, waves at her to come over. “This is Tachibana,” she explains, looping her arm casually through Michi’s. “She’s in my class.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re with the Flower Princes too? Lucky!” a girl Michi doesn’t know says. Aiko squeezes her arm. “Tachibana is actually friends with Nagisa-kun, right, Tachibana?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi’s skin prickles. “Not really. He’s actually friends with my seatmate,” she says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s your seatmate?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ichijo Sayuri,” Aiko says quickly. “You know, the valedictorian who gave the opening speech at the entrance ceremony.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi blinks. She has no memory of this, but then, it was the day before her uniform changed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like Nagisa-kun, though, don’t you?” Aiko prompts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, who doesn’t?” Michi says, a little awkwardly. Aoi is looking at her intently from Aiko’s other side. “Nagisa-kun is really friendly. I’m sure if you guys introduced yourselves, he’d love to hang out with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” one of the girls brightens. Aoi speaks up. “Will you introduce me to him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her black gaze is sharp. Michi manages a smile. “Yeah, of course,” she says, and feels Aiko relax beside her. “Like I said, though, I’m not really friends with him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s alright,” Aoi says, sounding for the first time as if she means it. “If you want, you can join the Protection Squad.” She smiles. “Nagisa-kun is so friendly, he doesn’t understand that not everyone means well, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Michi says, not knowing. “Um, thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know the Ice Prince?” another girl pipes up. Michi turns to her. “Um, no. He doesn’t really talk to anyone in our class.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, it’s such a shame,” a different girl sighs. “At least we can see him every day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The conversation circles back to the Flower Princes. Michi edges out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aiko follows her. “Oops, I forgot it’s almost class time,” she says, falling in step beside her. She squints down the hall. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi shrugs, less confused by the crowd blocking the doorway to class 1-A. She’s pretty sure she knows what the cause is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure enough, when they push through the tangle of people, she sees Sayuri at the center of the crowd. Prince Charming is sitting on her desk, their heads bent together over his phone. “You were the valedictorian, right?” he’s saying. “Can you help solve it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri leans forward, her forehead almost brushing his. “Hmm, Kaname’s usually better at crosswords,” she says, scrolling through his phone. “Try ‘avarice’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Prince Charming types. “Hey, it fits.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Sayuri plucks the phone out of his hands. “Do you know this next one?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I got stuck on that one too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm...what about ‘denouement’?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It fits.” Prince Charming tilts his head. “You’re pretty good at this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri shrugs. “Kaname likes crosswords.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I go to her, too, when I get stuck.” The class president appears behind her, resting a hand on Sayuri’s shoulder. “I’m pretty sure she has the entire Japanese vocabulary memorized.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Crosswords aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>hard,” Sayuri protests, twisting to look up at him. Kaname just smiles. “Did you manage to finish it, Tatsuya?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Prince Charming types something into his phone. A rare smile lights his face. Several of the girls nearby swoon. “Done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kaname peers over his shoulder. “Not bad. Did I send you the site I use?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. They were really hard, though.” Prince Charming’s perfect nose wrinkles. “You make it look too easy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aiko leans closer to Michi. “Good luck getting to your desk,” she murmurs. Michi makes a face. “Yeah, no kidding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can sit with me. Aoi’s not back yet, anyway.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Michi says gratefully, following her over. Sayuri spots them through the crowd. She is </span>
  <em>
    <span>uncannily </span>
  </em>
  <span>good at that. “Michi!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Prince Charming and Kaname turn. The crowd follows their gaze. Michi wants to curl up and die on the spot. “Hey,” she says weakly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tachibana, have you heard Taeyung’s new album?” Aiko says suddenly, tugging her sleeve. Mihi sinks gratefully into the seat beside her, trying to ignore the stares. Most of the class has already gone back to whispering about Prince Charming’s never-before-seen smile, but she can feel Kaname’s cool green eyes on her back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t listened to much K-pop,” she admits. Aiko grins. “We’re about to change that. Here.” She pulls out her iPod and offers Michi an earbud. Michi takes it and stiffens as Aiko scoots her chair closer, her knees bumping Michi’s. “This one’s my favorite,” she says. Michi has to strain to hear the music above the chatter. “I like it,” she says, trying to make out the sound of the male lead singing soulfully in her left ear. Aiko cups a hand over her free ear. “I’ll show you the rest of the album later when it’s quieter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Michi tries not to look behind her. Sayuri has gone quiet. Prince Charming has returned to his seat, but Kaname has taken his place at her desk. She can hear him talking softly to Sayuri, the words inaudible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aiko glances behind her. “Lucky,” she murmurs. “Kaname-senpai seems really protective.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know why?” Michi whispers back, curious. Aiko shrugs. “Maybe it’s a brother thing. Although </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>brother doesn’t act like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi stares at her. “They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>siblings</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aiko laughs. “You didn’t know? He’s her older brother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi makes a face. “I’m an idiot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You couldn’t tell?” Aiko laughs again. “He’s basically the more attractive version of her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh!” Michi glances guiltily over her shoulder. “Not so loud.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Aiko says amiably. “You really are dense, Tachibana.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, shut up.” The tips of Michi’s ears turn pink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not </span>
  </em>
  <span>that </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind of shoujo.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the day is easy. Aiko passes her notes during English, volunteers to pair up with her during math, and pulls her away during break before Sayuri can say anything. She doesn’t talk much about the Flower Princes except on bathroom runs, and Michi finds herself suddenly at the center of the different squads. Some of the girls who were rude to her before even come by to invite her to join their fan clubs. It’s...nice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The restroom gatherings are getting more and more crowded. It’s almost exclusively class 1-A girls now, each squad clustered in their own corner. Aiko moves through them all. She has a joke or teasing comment for every girl in their class, even the ones who don’t seem to care about the Flower Princes. Michi trails in her wake, nodding shyly. She’s ‘Tachibana’ now, not just ‘that Ichijo girl’s seatmate’. Even Aoi is friendlier. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri doesn’t ask to walk home together that day. Michi goes home alone. She’s used to walking alone. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes </span>
  </em>
  <span>being alone, she reminds herself. And she has a group now. Sure, the group only talks about the Flower Princes, but Aiko is fun. She likes eating lunch outside the classroom with Aiko and her friends. She likes being part of the group. She likes feeling normal. She likes being able to forget about the weird uniform, and the weird private academy, and the weird Flower Princes with their weird hair colors and almost accusing stares as they surround Sayuri in an increasingly protective circle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>this. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>It’s raining today, an abrupt drizzle that sends them scattering back inside with their lunch boxes. Michi shakes her head, sending water droplets spraying everywhere. She’d caught the worst of the sudden rain, helping Aiko gather up the blanket they were picnicing on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to go grab my towel from the lockers,” she says, holding her dripping braid away from her damp blouse. “Be right back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” says Aiko, glancing up. “Meet you by the window niche?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The school is chilly. One of the perks of private schools, she’s discovered, is that they turn on the air conditioning once the early June heat hits. Today, though, she misses the warmth. She rubs her arms, wishing fourth period was over already and she could change into her dry P.E. clothes for the walk home. At least she’d left her jacket in the classroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The entrance hall is empty. Most of the kids are probably holed up in the classrooms playing cards. She wanders through the rows of grey lockers and pauses when she hears a familiar voice say her name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been watching Michi-chan, too.” Nagisa’s high clear voice is amused. “I’ve seen you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what? It’s obvious Tachibana’s the reason Ichijo’s been moping around the past month.” Kirishima Jirou sounds annoyed at being called out. Michi goes still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you don’t just look at Sayuri-chan,” Nagisa teases. Jirou snorts. “It’s not my fault those two are being annoyingly obvious about the whole thing. If they had a fight, they should just move on. Especially Tachibana. It was probably her fault to begin with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi bristles silently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? Why would you think that?” Nagisa asks curiously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve seen how Ichijo acts,” Jirou says. “She’s obviously still trying to be friends. Tachibana’s the one who’s pushing her away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you think it’s all Michi-chan’s fault.” Nagisa’s cheerful tone doesn’t change. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ichijo doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would start a fight,” Jirou says bluntly. Nagisa laughs. “And Michi-chan is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not like that,” Jirou grumbles. “But I’ve seen how they act together. Tachibana clearly doesn’t want to be friends. I don’t know what happened between them and I don’t care, but Ichijo should stop trying to push it. It’s only making her miserable.” He hesitates. “And Tachibana should stop being an idiot and realize Ichijo cares about her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, Jirou, you’ve really been looking out for Sayuri-chan, haven’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Footsteps recede. Michi shrinks back into the shadow of the lockers. She stays there even when the entrance hall is silent again, leaning against her locker, forgetting about the small puddle forming beneath her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been almost three weeks. She still talks to Sayuri sometimes, but it’s always small talk, just snippets of conversation before one of the other girls pulls Michi away. She knows that the other girls sometimes make disparaging remarks about Sayuri, but never to her. Aoi is the most outspoken about it, but even she keeps quiet when Aiko’s around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had thought Sayuri would get frustrated or upset at her and ignore her. Michi wouldn’t have blamed her. And one of the Flower Princes was always with her now, so it’s not like she had just abandoned her. Besides, the boys in their class were always happy to include her in their card games. And it wasn’t like </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the girls disliked her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re making excuses again…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shivers and turns hastily to her locker. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s easier this way, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thinks firmly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This way I don’t have to worry about it all. This way I won’t just be the girl next door. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This way I’ll just be normal…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve never </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>to be normal before. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not THAT kind of shoujo d:</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <strong>Chapter Six</strong>
</h3>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>June, 2018</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe summer break is in three weeks,” Aiko says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi looks up from her biology textbook. They’re in her room, studying for the semester finals that have finally started to loom on the horizon. Or at least, Michi’s studying and Aiko is sprawled on her bed, taking selfies with the new iPhone her parents bought her for her birthday last week. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” Michi says noncommittally, turning the page with a rustle. Aiko scoots closer to the window and holds up her phone. “Hey, Tachibana, come over here. I need longer arms.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need a personal photographer,” Michi retorts, getting to her feet and coming over. Aiko tilts her face up and grins at her. “I’ve got you, haven’t I? Wait, don’t take it yet. Is my hair okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi shrugs. “You look great,” she says truthfully. “Why the fuss, anyway?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mom’s finally letting me have my own Instagram account,” Aiko says, fluffing her dark hair. “I need a profile pic. Okay, now take it. Wait! Should I lift my chin more?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look fine.” Michi snaps a picture and tosses the phone back. “What’s Instagram?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re such a heathen, Tachibana.” Aiko sits up, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, and tilts her head so that the afternoon sunlight frames her face. She purses her lips, takes a picture, and repositions. “Seriously, how are you going to survive high school?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With good grades,” Michi shoots back good-naturedly. “Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>actually study.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Studying’s overrated. Come on, I want to try out these filters.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi sighs and climbs onto the bed. Aiko scoots to make room. “Smile,” she orders, flinging an arm around Michi’s shoulders. “Annnnnd cheese!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The camera flashes. Michi blinks. There’s a knock on her door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mom, we’re busy!” she says, but the door is already swinging open. Michi goes still. Aiko stiffens. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri looks just as surprised to see them. She recovers quickly. “Tsubara Aiko, right?” she says, her voice cool. Michi glances at Aiko, wide-eyed. The only time she’s ever heard Sayuri sound like that was when Jirou confronted her the first day of class. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri turns to Michi. “Can we talk for a minute?” she asks. Michi slowly uncurls from beside Aiko. “Yeah. Okay,” she says helplessly, and looks at Aiko. “Um, I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aiko is looking at Sayuri with thinly veiled dislike. “Take your time,” she says, shrugging. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi stops in the hall, closing the door behind her. “What’s up?” she says awkwardly. She can’t read Sayuri’s expression in the dimly lit hallway, but she can guess the color of her eyes. Clouded grey, dark and stormy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you were friends with Tsubara.” Sayuri’s voice is carefully level. Michi shrugs. “We’ve been hanging out for a while now.” She wraps her arms around herself. “So what’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you ignoring me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi blinks. She hadn’t expected her to say it flat out. “I’m not ignoring you,” she stammers. “We still talk at school–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At school. If you need to get by or if I ask you something.” Sayuri folds her arms. “You’ve been acting weird ever since school started, and now you won’t even talk to me unless I say something. What’s going on, Michi? I thought you just wanted space, but do you even want to be friends with me anymore?” Genuine hurt laces her voice. “Did what I did really hurt you that much?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault,” Michi mumbles. She hugs herself tighter, avoiding her gaze. “It’s nothing you did, I promise. I’m just...I think we just grew apart. It happens. Aiko says–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t,” Sayuri says. She shakes her head as Michi starts to stammer again. “You’re my best friend, Michi,” she says quietly. “We’ve been best friends since we were two. If you want to walk away, fine. Just tell me why.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi swallows hard. “We just grew apart,” she says. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Sayuri says bitterly. “Okay. I’ll stop bothering you, then.” She turns on her heel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi listens to her footsteps disappear down the stairs and the distant click of the door. Her heart beats unsteadily in her chest. She feels suddenly like throwing up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was all that about?” Aiko asks when she comes back in. Michi shrugs, not wanting to talk. Aiko looks like she wants to push it, but she just sprawls back dramatically on the green coverlet, flinging her iPhone onto the pillow. “Whatever. Don’t listen to anything she says, okay? She’s just a bitch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi stiffens. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ichijo. She’s a bitch,” Aiko says carelessly. She sees Michi’s face and sits up. “What, you didn’t know? Geez, Tachibana, you’re so dense sometimes. Everyone talks about it. Aoi goes off on freaking rants. Haven’t you heard her?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi clears her throat. “Why? Does everyone hate her, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>her.” Aiko shrugs. “She’s just such a know-it-all, you know? Always being a goody-two-shoes and telling people to shut up in class. The teachers love it, but she’s totally just showing off. It gets on my nerves. Plus, the way she only flirts with the princes like that? Sure, she’s pretty, but it’s just gross watching her demand their attention like that. Seriously. It’s so pathetic. And she gets away with it, too, just ‘cause she’s pretty.” Aiko laughs spitefully. “Aoi freaking hates her. I can’t believe you haven’t heard her go off about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi bites her lip. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>heard Aoi rant, but she thought it was just her and her friends. Of course some people would hate Sayuri, she had thought. She was pretty and smart and all the boys were in love with her. Of course some people would get jealous. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She </span>
  </em>
  <span>gets jealous sometimes. But she’s never seen Sayuri tell anyone to shut up, never heard her shush anyone except that first day, weeks ago. And she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sayuri doesn’t flirt with the princes. All of them have sought </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>out, even Jirou, who only likes to bicker with her about academics. Sayuri’s nice– she doesn’t ignore anyone, so of course she would talk to the princes. The princes, she realizes now, are the </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>ones who talk to her. And Sayuri doesn’t go out of her way to talk to them. When the princes are gone, she sits by herself, at her desk. At </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>desk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had thought Aiko, at least, who was so good at understanding people, who was so friendly and easy to get along with, had noticed that. She had thought if she just kept her distance from Sayuri and the princes, the story would sail smoothly on as if she had never entered it at all. She had thought Sayuri would be so showered with affection by everyone that the quiet side character would slip out unnoticed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She can still do it. She’s already kept her mouth shut, ignored the snide comments, the disparaging remarks. Sayuri isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>best friend, after all. Even if Sayuri thinks she is.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She can keep being normal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s not, though.” Michi’s voice is very small. “A know-it-all. She just answers questions in class because no one else will.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Including us.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, Tachibana,” Aiko scoffs. “You don’t have to be nice to </span>
  <em>
    <span>everybody</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ichijo is.” Michi’s shoulders curl in, but her voice is a little bit louder. “I’ve never seen her be mean to anybody. Maybe she’s not as bad as you guys think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aiko stares at her. “Are you serious right now?” She stands up, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s with sudden defense? Do you actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>her?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t get why everyone hates her so much. She’s always nice to everyone, and it’s not her fault the guys all like her.” Michi doesn’t know where all the words are coming from, but they’re bursting out now. “And yeah, she’s pretty, but so what? It’s like everyone hates her just because she’s pretty and smart and the princes like her. I don’t get it. Why do you guys hate her so much?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unbelievable.” Aiko grabs her phone and marches over to the door. “I can’t believe this.” She whirls on Michi. “I felt bad for you, you know that? I saw you getting smothered by Ichijo and I felt bad for you. Aoi and the others hated you too, you know that? They thought you were just this pathetic little pawn, trying to get close to the princes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>stood up for you.” She scoffs again. “I can’t believe you. Are you really this stupid?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She wasn’t smothering me.” Michi swallows hard and looks up into Aiko’s narrowed dark eyes. “She was just trying to be friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, so was I.” Aiko grabs her backpack and flings it over her shoulder. “Whatever. If you’re gonna be an idiot, leave me out of it. I don’t want anything to do with that stupid bitch.” She stomps out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi listens to the door slam below for the second time that day. The gaping pit in her stomach is starting to swallow her up. She feels sick and upset and empty all at once. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a gentle knock on her half-open door. For a wild second she thinks Sayuri came back, but it’s only Mom, a basket of dirty laundry on one hip. “Did Tsubara-chan leave?” she wants to know, looking around the empty room. “I thought I heard the door.” She sees Michi’s face and frowns. “Is everything alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi shakes her head. Mom sets the basket of laundry down in the hallway and puts an arm around her shoulders. “Tell me what happened,” she says soothingly, leading her over to the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first tear drips down Michi’s nose. She explains haltingly, between sobs, what happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I know I did the right thing, Mom,” she says, wiping her eyes and hiccuping. “But now everyone’s gonna hate me at school, and Sayuri probably hates me, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>hate me, and I just wish this whole thing had never happened.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Mom says at last, reflectively, as she hands her another tissue. “It sounds like most of this was your fault in the first place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Michi says miserably. Mom holds up a finger. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>But</span>
  </em>
  <span> since it’s mostly your fault, it means you can mostly fix it,” she says, tucking Michi’s hair away from her tear-stained face with gentle fingers. “I don’t know why you and Sayuri fought, but you two have been friends for a very, very long time. Even if it’s hard to remember that right now, you two have a lot of history. I’m sure if you reach out first and apologize, Sayuri will forgive you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what if she doesn’t?” Michi sniffles. “What if she does hate me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s possible. But I don’t think she will.” Mom gets to her feet and reaches for the box of tissues. “It’ll all work out, Mich. And besides,” she adds, stooping for the laundry basket, “even if you hadn’t broken things off with that girl, would you really have been happy listening to her say stuff like that about Sayuri behind her back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Michi mumbles. Mom straightens up again. “Well, there you go. And for the record, I don’t think Sayuri would have kept quiet in your place, either.” She rests a hand on the doorknob. “Dinner’s in half an hour.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Michi sniffs and rubs her eyes. “Hey, Mom?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I might be a little late.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mom smiles. “Take your time,” she says. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Michi stares at the apartment door, trying to gather up the courage to knock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not just the guilt. To come crawling back to Sayuri, after what she said earlier…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pride pricks her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe this is just as selfish</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Coming back just because I have nowhere else to go. Maybe she’ll hate me, after all. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I should just leave.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath. Her knock is barely audible in the dimly lit hallway. She waits, heart in her throat, uncertain whether she should try again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door opens as she starts to lift her hand. She drops it quickly, knotting her fingers behind her back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kaname stands in the doorway. He’s not smiling. Michi’s shoulders curl inwards. “Can I talk to Sayuri?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kaname crosses his arms. “She’s taking a nap right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi shuffles her feet. “Please?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a long pause. When she finally looks up, Kaname’s dark eyes are somber. “Did you make her cry, Michi?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi swallows hard. “I’m sorry. Can I please talk to her?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She forces down the last shreds of her pride. “I want to apologize. Please?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kaname steps back wordlessly. Michi mumbles her thanks and follows him inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their apartment has the same layout as hers. She trails behind Kaname, feeling once again as if she’s caught up in a dream as she passes the unfamiliar furniture, the strange colors and patterns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kaname stops at the top of the stairs and knocks on the first door. “Yuri? You have a visitor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who is it?” There’s a sniffle behind the door, but the words are flung harshly. Kaname glances at Michi. “Yuri, open the door,” he says, his voice softer than Michi has ever heard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door creaks open. A shadowy figure emerges from the darkness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Michi has something she wants to say,” Kaname says, resting a hand on Michi’s shoulder. Michi isn’t sure whether it’s encouragement or a threat. She doesn’t really want to stammer out her apology in front of him, either, but Kaname’s grip is firm. She takes a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. You were right. I was ignoring you. I was being really stupid, and I thought– I’m sorry.” She hesitates. Sayuri moves into the light. Her pale brown eyes are red and swollen. She doesn’t say anything. Michi takes another quick breath and plunges on, conscious of Kaname’s hand on her shoulder, “Aiko and I aren’t friends anymore. She was saying stuff about you that wasn’t true. I didn’t know she– she was like that. I’m sorry.” She ducks her head, flushing. “I’m really sorry, Sayuri. I understand if you hate me now. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that. I shouldn’t have just walked away without explaining. I shouldn’t have–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri flings her arms around her and buries her face in Michi’s shoulder. “You can really be an idiot sometimes,” she says, her voice muffled in Michi’s sweatshirt. Michi stiffens and slowly, carefully, wraps her arms around her. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice cracking. “I should have thought about how you felt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘S okay.” Sayuri hugs her harder. “I’m sorry, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kaname’s gone. Michi hadn’t even noticed him leaving. She untangles herself from Sayuri and stands awkwardly, arms at her sides. Sayuri grabs her sleeve. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” she says, and sniffles and scrubs her eyes with one hand. “We should talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi sniffs, rubs her eyes, and nods. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell,” Jirou growls, tossing away his game controller. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Language, Kirishima,” Kaname says, not looking up from his book. Tatsuya stirs, blinks at them sleepily, and faceplants on his desk again. The boy does nothing but sleep, Michi thinks, nibbling on her pocky stick. Sayuri plucks the chocolate end off and pops it in her mouth. Michi yelps. “Hey!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri draws another pocky stick from the package and wiggles it teasingly. “It’s pocky, Michi. You have to play to get the chocolate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi makes a grab for the package, but Sayuri has ridiculous reflexes. She groans and crumples on her desk as Sayuri giggles. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>said </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m sorry. Can I just have </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri purses her lips, pretending to consider. Nagisa plucks the package from her grip and tries a pocky. “Mmm! Hey, Jirou, try one!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No thanks,” Jirou says, backing away. “I don’t want cooties.” He glares at Michi. “And why’re you being friendly all of a su–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nagisa elbows him. “Michi, you can have the chocolate part of mine,” he says cheerfully. Michi eyes the pocky poking out of his mouth and makes a face. “Pleaaaaaaase, Sayuri?” she begs, flopping onto the desk again. Sayuri relents. “Okay, Nagisa, you can give her one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tatsuya, lured by the smell of food, reanimates again. “What’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pocky!” Nagisa waves one under his nose. “Want one, Tatsuya-kun?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tatsuya turns questioning dark eyes on Sayuri. She nods. “You guys can have some.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi leans back to tug on Nagisa’s sleeve, looking up at him pleadingly. Nagisa gives in– she’s already discovered he’s susceptible to puppy eyes. She munches contentedly, watching Tatsuya deliberate over the pocky sticks. He’s got a sleep wrinkle pressed into his cheek, but even that somehow fits him. His eyes aren’t black like she originally thought. They’re a rich deep blue, crystalizing into fragments of brilliant color when the light hits them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He notices her staring. “Tachibana-san, you’re not ignoring Ichijo anymore?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi almost chokes on her pocky stick. Tatsuya tilts his head, his crystalized eyes vaguely curious. “You were ignoring her for a long time. Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jirou swivels. Sayuri glances sideways at her. Even Kaname lifts his head to look at her. Michi swallows her pocky. “Um–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Jirou, did you get that top score on the test?” Nagisa says suddenly. “You were going to beat Sayuri-chan, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heads swivel towards Jirou. He shifts uncomfortably. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kirishima-san did really well,” Sayuri interjects, smiling sweetly. “He got the </span>
  <em>
    <span>second </span>
  </em>
  <span>highest score in the whole class.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jirou sputters. The other boys laugh. Michi sinks down in her chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s only been two days since she and Sayuri made up, but Sayuri has already gone back to being her affectionate self. She even teases Michi about the whole thing from time to time. Between her and Nagisa, who promptly accepted Michi without question, she’s been unofficially introduced into the group, but it’s obvious that it’s only because she’s Sayuri’s friend. Kaname is friendly enough, and Nagisa treats everyone the same, but Jirou and Tatsuya barely speak to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Back to being the side character,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thinks with a sigh. But she knows she’s exaggerating. It’s only been two days, and already she’s happier than she’s been since </span>
  <em>
    <span>it </span>
  </em>
  <span>happened. It’s like everything’s clicked into place, now that she’s playing along. Maybe she is just playing along. Maybe this will all end suddenly, and she’ll wake up one day in her old life, without Sayuri, without the Flower Princes, without this stupid, weird world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sneaks a glance at Sayuri through her bangs. She’s laughing, her green eyes shining, her golden hair sparkling in the sunlight, looking for all the world like a Disney princess in some movie. Nagisa is perched on Tatsuya’s desk behind her, waving the package of pocky sticks as he chatters animatedly. Tatsuya is half-asleep again, nodding off against the window, a pocky stick poking out of his mouth. Kaname is still calmly reading his textbook next to him. Jirou is sulking behind him, pretending not to look at Sayuri as she giggles. It’s like watching some grand play, the actors all a little too perfect to be ordinary, the scene a little too perfect to be real. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I can spend a little more time here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Michi thinks.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Just a little bit more, and see how the story plays out. And then I’ll wake up. Just until then. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then the story changes. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I put all my free time into writing original stuff...<br/>...meh.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <strong>Chapter Seven</strong>
</h3>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>July, 2018</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bell rings. Michi collapses onto her desk with a groan. “It’s so hot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s cooler in the empty classroom,” Sayuri offers. “You can study there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s too hot to study.” Michi shrugs off her jacket and faceplants back on the desk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Sayuri-chan, Michi-chan, there’s a card tournament going on in class 2-A,” Nagisa says, hopping to his feet. “Wanna play?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri shakes her head. “Kaname and I have a student council meeting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That we should get to,” her brother adds, rising to his feet. “Ready, Yuri?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri nudges Michi. “You gonna be okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi opens one eye reluctantly. Even blurry, Sayuri looks amazing. The stifling heat in the classroom doesn’t seem to bother her. Her face isn’t even flushed. Michi closes her eyes again. “I’ll live.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get you an ice cream when I come back,” Sayuri promises. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t die, Michi-chan.” Nagisa pats her frizzy head. “It’s almost summer break.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi flaps a hand at him. “Go on, Poker King. Don’t worry about me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Poker Emperor now,” Nagisa corrects, his tone innocent. “Since last week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi wrinkles her nose at him. “Go defend your title, you scary human.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t die, okay?” Nagisa pats her head again and bounces off. Michi rolls her head around to look at Jirou. “Hey, Kirishima~”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not getting you anything, Tachibana.” Jirou gets to his feet. “Go to the cafeteria yourself, you bum.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But it’s hot,” she moans. Jirou snorts and walks away. She glares at his back and flops down again. At least now the classroom’s empty, and she can sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s dozing off when cool fingers press against her forehead. “I’m fine Sayuri,” she mumbles, not opening her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No fever,” says a low voice overhead that definitely isn’t Sayuri’s. Michi’s head snaps up. Tatsuya lowers his hand. His dark blue eyes are vaguely curious. “Are you sick?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No,” she stammers, caught off guard. “It’s just hot, is all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tatsuya regards her gravely. His face is expressionless, as usual. She can never quite tell what’s going on behind those perfect features. “It’s summer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she says, not sure if he’s mocking her. She rests her chin on her forearms again. “I just don’t do well in the heat, is all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tatsuya looks down at her for a moment longer, and walks back to his seat. Michi closes her eyes again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That was weird. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minutes tick by. She risks a glance over her shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tatsuya blinks sleepily at her. She ducks her head again, embarrassed, but he’s already reaching up to take an earbud out. He offers it to her wordlessly. She stares at him a moment, and tentatively takes it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Electric guitar explodes in her eardrum. She flinches. Whatever she was expecting, it hadn’t been that. Tatsuya tilts his head. “You don’t like it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi scrunches up her nose, listening. “Linkin Park?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Tatsuya relaxes a little. “You know them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a few of their songs,” she admits. “I like ‘Numb’.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods. “Yeah,” he says, and leans back against the window and closes his eyes. Michi turns around in her seat so that earbud doesn’t pull free and props her chin on one hand, staring out the window. Tatsuya’s profile is reflected against the distant sakuras. His dark lashes are </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly </span>
  </em>
  <span>long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop staring, Mich. Don’t be a creep. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She looks away. Maybe it’s just her imagination, but the classroom seems a little cooler. She settles her chin on her arms and closes her eyes, electric guitar thrumming in her left ear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Michi.” Sayuri’s shaking her shoulder gently. “Class is about to start.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi lifts her head and looks around sleepily. Tatsuya is still sound asleep against the window. Jirou and Nagisa are at their desks, chatting. Students are piling back inside the classroom over the sound of Chester Bennington screaming in her ear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulls out the ear bud and yawns. “Mmkay. How was the meeting?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The usual. The student council president wants me to run for student council next semester.” Sayuri picks up the fallen earbud and inserts it curiously. She makes a face. “Loud,” she comments, setting it back on the desk. Michi shrugs. “He likes Linkin Park. And Three Days Grace.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And a bunch of other heavy rock I didn’t know anyone besides my dad listens to. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” is all Sayuri says. Kaname is trying to wake Tatsuya behind them. “I’m glad you two are getting along.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We didn’t exactly talk,” Michi mutters. Sayuri just smiles and bends her head over the history textbook. Kaname is talking softly behind them to Tatsuya. Michi pricks up her ears, but the teacher is calling for quiet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for letting me listen to your music,” she says when they’re packing up their bags. Tatsuya shrugs, his face as impassive as ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think he likes me,” she tells Sayuri later, as they’re walking back home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tatsuya’s quiet.” Sayuri tilts her head thoughtfully. A cherry blossom spirals down to kiss her cheek as it flutters by. “But I don’t think he’s the kind of person who would talk to you if he didn’t like you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi frowns. “He didn’t really talk to me. He just checked to see if I had a fever and gave me an earbud. It wasn’t like how he is with you. He talks to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but he knows me.” Sayuri shrugs. “I’m his best friend’s little sister. He doesn’t know you. He was probably just shy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Michi says dubiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He doesn’t dislike you, Michi,” Kaname says unexpectedly. He had been walking behind them all this time in silence. Michi hadn’t thought he was listening. “But that doesn’t mean he likes me,” she protests. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe that’s what he’s trying to figure out.” Kaname’s green eyes are amused. She has the feeling he knows more than he’s letting on, but she doesn’t push it. Talking to Kaname is always a slightly intimidating experience. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri links her arm through Michi’s. “So Chi asked me to be vice president of the student council next semester,” she says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you didn’t want to join the student council?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t, but Chi says it’s good scholarship material and it could be a good experience.” Sayuri’s green-grey eyes are thoughtful. Michi’s starting to pick up on the mood behind each color; grey can mean either pensive or troubled, depending. She isn’t sure which one fits today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vice secretary is a lot of work, right?” she says. “Why don’t you ask if you can have a smaller role and work your way up to it, if you decide you want it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe.” Sayuri kicks at a pebble lying on the sidewalk. “Chi usually doesn’t take no for an answer.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clearly she hasn’t met you yet,” Michi says, and a faint flush warms Sayuri’s fair skin. “I’ll think about it,” she says, and squeezes Michi’s arm. “Want to finish that anime tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would, but I have to study,” Michi groans. “Finals are in three weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can study together. I have notes for science and math.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are a </span>
  <em>
    <span>goddess</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sayuri grins. “I have to beat Jirou. I told him the loser this round has to buy the whole group ice cream mochi for the last day of class.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d better win,” Kaname says wryly. “Dad won’t up your allowance, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t need it.” Sayuri smiles wickedly. Michi laughs. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> betting on you. And hey, come summer break we can finally finish that anime.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm.” Sayuri squeezes her arm again. “I’m looking forward to it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi smiles. “Me too.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>She almost forgets about her encounter with Tatsuya, until the next day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stifling heat has finally cooled to a bearable level, but Michi still feels hot and moody by the time lunch rolls around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nagisa and I are running across the street to get some popsicles,” Sayuri says, getting to her feet and stretching. “Want to come?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi shakes her head. “Too hot,” she says, yawning. Sayuri shrugs. “Okay. Want me to get you anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm, I’m good. See you later.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See you.” Sayuri glances up at Jirou, who’s looming behind Nagisa. “Shouldn’t you be studying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha ha. I want to get something, too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jirou’s paying,” Nagisa says cheerfully. Jirou sputters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? I’ll come too, then. Thanks Jirou.” Kaname smiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michi watches them go, her chin propped on one hand. Sayuri’s oblivious as ever to the stares, and Nagisa seems blissfully unaware of his fan club crowding behind them at a safe distance, trying to ‘accidentally’ bump elbows with their idol. But Jirou and Kaname are bringing up the rear, forming a human wall between the group and the rest of the class, and even their fans don’t try to bump them. Jirou’s pale gaze is royally aloof as it sweeps the classroom, and Kaname’s small smile is as unreadable as ever. Michi rolls her eyes. The squealing and stage-whispering has finally died down, but girls still gasp and swoon when one of the princes happens to make eye contact. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glances curiously over her shoulder at Tatsuya, the only remaining member of the Flower Princes. To her surprise, he’s awake and looking back at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too hot to sleep?” she asks. Tatsuya shakes his head. “You?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugs. “I forgot my iPod.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls his out wordlessly. Michi takes the earbud he offers to her, hesitates, and comes around to sit in Kaname’s spot beside him. Tatsuya doesn’t seem to mind. He leans his head against the window and closes his eyes. Michi lays her head down on Kaname’s biology textbook, the white headphone wire trailing across her cheek. Metallica moans in her ear. Tatsuya’s face is as relaxed as if he’s listening to classical music. Her lips quirk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Such a weird human. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the princes are weird in their own way, she supposes, even Nagisa, with his crazy photographic memory and uncanny ability to sense when she’s lying. Jirou’s the stereotypical shoujo protagonist, with his effortlessly perfect grades and rich family and snarky tsundere personality. Kaname, too, reminds her of some dark anime prince, the kind that calmly plots the downfall of kingdoms while smiling gently. Even Sayuri is so unassumingly perfect that sometimes Michi forgets she’s abnormally so. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But if Tatsuya’s a stereotypical character, then she’s never seen that kind of shoujo. Other than his looks, he doesn’t really have anything that would mark him as a main character. All he does is stay up late playing video games and sleep in class. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She </span>
  </em>
  <span>does that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sneaks another peek at him through her bangs. His head has slumped down onto his shoulder, his chest rising and falling gently in beat to the pounding drums in her ear. Even asleep, he’s pretty, his dark lashes curving against his cheek, the sunlight playing over the the perfect slant of his nose. His skin is even more immaculate than Sayuri’s. Michi wrinkles her nose. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Does the boy not have pores? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The song changes. She blinks in surprise. It’s an acoustic version, not the muffled screaming she’s grown used to. With a sigh, she settles down to nap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It becomes a tradition for those three weeks leading up to summer break. Even Sayuri gradually stops asking her to tag along on one of Nagisa’s endless adventures during the lunch break. Michi waits for most of the fan clubs to clear out before moving to Kaname’s desk, but eventually Tatsuya only revives long enough after the bell to lean over, pop the earbud in her ear without waiting for her to get up, and collapse back onto his desk. She gives up and just turns in her chair to face him after that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She also discovers that no matter how hot the classroom gets, the air around Tatsuya stays cool. She dismisses it as a shoujo thing, and takes full advantage of it. If he’s startled to wake up and see her head nestled beside his, her face tilted up to receive as much cool air as possible, he never says anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, eventually, after a week and a half has passed and she spends less time napping and more time hunched over her books, cramming for finals, they start to talk. Tatsuya isn’t exactly a conversationalist at the best of times, but he doesn’t seem to mind listening, and he’s good at biology, which still baffles her. And she knows, when he abruptly leans against the window, that he’s done with socializing for the day, and she doesn’t mind the sudden silence, except when he falls asleep on her textbook. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a queer little friendship– almost not something she thinks of as a friendship at all– but she’s glad for it. Tatsuya still doesn’t seek her out like he does Sayuri, but lunch break is </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>time, something he does only with her, and she likes that. She likes knowing that at least he talks to her because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants </span>
  </em>
  <span>to, not because he’s taking pity on Sayuri’s friend, like she sometimes suspects Nagisa and Kaname do. It makes it easier, knowing she’s just a side character. She likes knowing even as a side character, she can still be friends with the princes. And, as petty as it is, she likes how the pitying or malicious eyes of the other girls change to envy when she’s not sitting by herself at lunch anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t realize how much she likes it until finals week looms up, and everything changes.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Things finally be getting romance-y, yeah?<br/>Just kidding. They're still in middle school. But it will come, I promise...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>

<p></p><div>
  <p>Chapter Eight</p>
  <p>For a moment, she thinks she imagined it.</p>
  <p>Tatsuya is still watching the sunlight filter through the trees. Specks of light catch on his inky lashes as he blinks. His face is calm, composed.</p>
  <p>
    <em>I like you.</em>
  </p>
  <p>She doesn't say anything. He doesn't seem to expect her to. They sit in silence for a moment, then Tatsuya sighs.</p>
  <p>"You don't want anything from me," he says simply. "You don't try to make me talk. And I'm comfortable around you, because you don't seem to expect anything from me. That's why I like being friends with you."</p>
  <p>Michi doesn't say anything. Her heart is still thudding painfully in her chest, but it feels hollow.</p>
  <p>Tatsuya still isn't looking at her. His crystalline eyes are gazing up at the sky, far, far away.</p>
  <p><em>Oh, </em>she thinks numbly, trying to drown out the hollow thumping in her ears. <em>So that's why you approached me first. That's why I'm the only other girl besides Sayuri that you talk to. </em></p>
  <p>
    <em>So that's why you don't treat me like Sayuri. </em>
  </p>
  <p>Tatsuya closes his eyes. She hears his breathing even out. Most days she would prop her chin on her knees and watch the sunlight dance over his face, but right now she doesn't want to be anywhere near him. There's a sick, hollow feeling in her gut.</p>
  <p><em>We </em>are<em> friends, </em>she tells herself firmly. <em>That's what I wanted, isn't it? To be friends with them? To actually matter to them? We're friends, aren't we? Aren't we? </em></p>
  <p>Just<em> friends. Until this story plays out…</em></p>
  <p>She had thought, for a while now, that she could at least change her role. That she could be something more than the side character, than Sayuri's best friend, than the girl who lives across the hall. Even if that something was just being someone who was more than just the heroine's best friend. Someone who <em>mattered</em>. Someone who had the freedom to maybe, one day, be more than just a side character…</p>
  <p>She feels sick.</p>
  <p>
    <em>I can't break out of this story. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em>I didn't </em>want<em> to break out of this story anymore. I </em>like<em> it here. Even with the stupid drama, and the girls who hate me just because I'm friends with Sayuri, and the boys who say mean things because I'm an ugly duckling next to her. I like Sayuri. I like having a best friend who studies with me, and watches anime with me, and talks to me. I </em>like<em> being wanted. </em>The words are tumbling over each other in her mind. <em>I like Nagisa. I like Kaname, even if he's scary at times. I like Jirou, even if he teases me. I like being part of the group. I didn't </em>want<em> to wake up anymore. </em></p>
  <p><em>…</em> <em>Until now. </em></p>
  <p>Tatsuya is breathing deeply, as if the summer heat has exhausted him even more than usual. She'd never heard him talk so much before, not even to Sayuri.</p>
  <p>
    <em>I like you. </em>
  </p>
  <p>She swallows hard. "Baka," she mumbles, her voice rasping a little. "Now I <em>can't</em> like you."</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Nine</p>
<p>
  <em>July, 2018</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That biology test was a lot easier than I thought it'd be." Michi yawns and stretches lazily. "Wish I'd known that before I stayed up late studying for it."</p>
<p>"How late were you up?" Sayuri covers a yawn. "I didn't leave till almost eleven."</p>
<p>"Like...three more hours?" Michi winces. "I was nervous."</p>
<p>"You need sleep to function, you know," Sayuri says sternly. "We've still got another final after lunch."</p>
<p>"I know, I know. But it's only English. I'm more worried about algebra tomorrow." Michi winces. "I really don't want to fail."</p>
<p>"You won't fail," Sayuri says. "But we can go over the algebraic formulas again after school, if you want."</p>
<p>"You are a <em>goddess</em>," Michi says affectionately, throwing an arm around her. "Do you know that?"</p>
<p>"Only at math." Sayuri wrinkles her delicate nose. "And I think I got one of the answers wrong on the biology final."</p>
<p>"How dare," Michi says, straight-faced. "One wrong. Only a ninety-nine instead of a perfect hundred. Shishio-sensei might disown you–"</p>
<p>"He might!" Sayuri protests, but she's laughing. "He told me he has great expectations for me. I don't want to let him down."</p>
<p>Michi squeezes her shoulders. "The day you let Shishio-sensei down, the world will end. You could lie down in the middle of class and start snoring and Shishio-sensei would just say you had been studying too hard and needed a break."</p>
<p>Sayuri rolls her eyes. "He's harsher than that."</p>
<p>"I dunno–" Michi breaks off. Sayuri, looking at her questioningly, goes still as she hears the loud voice from inside the classroom.</p>
<p>"It's pathetic, really. You know, I felt bad for her at first, but she's totally just being all chummy with Ichijo so that the Flower Princes will notice her. I mean, have you seen her fawning over Tatsuya-sama? It's so annoying."</p>
<p>Sayuri slips out from under Michi's arm. Michi, already backstepping, reaches for her, too late.</p>
<p>Aiko's dark eyes widen when she sees them in the doorway, but she doesn't lower her voice. "Oh hey, Tachibana. Aoi and I were just talking about you." She flips her braid over one shoulder, a malicious edge to her voice. "We noticed that your name is written the same way as that girl in the myth we're reading in Lit. Remember it?"</p>
<p>Michi clamps a hand on Sayuri's arm. "Yeah. We read part of it in class," she says, trying to sound neutral. Her heart is beating fast in her ears. "Why?"</p>
<p>"Oh, no reason," Aiko says. "Aoi just noticed that you're a lot like the character. Isn't that funny?" She laughs. Michi presses her lips together. The girl in the story was only a side character, a maid to the princess. They hadn't read the end in class, but she knows it. It's one of the more famous myths. The maid seduced the prince and ended up causing a war between the two nations. The princess died. The maid was hung.</p>
<p>"Did your parents name you after her?" Aoi sneers. Michi smiles humorlessly. "No, they didn't," she says, tightening her grip on Sayuri's arm. Sayuri ignores her. "Kim-san, you finished the myth? The assignment was only to read the first half." She smiles sweetly. "I didn't take you as an overachiever."</p>
<p>Aoi's jaw works. Aiko cuts in smoothly, "Oh, the end is the most interesting part. Especially what happens to Michi. Shishio-sensei said it was deserved, though, didn't he?"</p>
<p>Michi shrugs. "I didn't really like the myth," she says, glancing around at the mostly empty classroom. The only students are the fan club members and a few boys chatting near the back who are pretending not to listen. She elbows Sayuri as the other girl opens her mouth. "Come on. Let's go find Nagisa," she says, trying to defuse the situation. She regrets the words a split second later.</p>
<p>"Being Ichijo's maid again?" Aoi sneers. "Careful, Ichijo. Look how the princess ended up."</p>
<p><em>I'm not getting drawn into a stupid cat fight, </em>Michi thinks, setting her jaw stubbornly. She tugs at Sayuri's arm again. "Come on."</p>
<p>Sayuri shrugs her off. "What are you saying, exactly?" she asks levelly.</p>
<p>"They're saying they're jealous," Michi interrupts, no longer caring about subtlety. "Let's go, Sayuri."</p>
<p>"I'm saying your stupid little maid is gonna backstab you one day," Aoi snaps, also ignoring the fine art of subtlety. Sayuri turns icy green eyes on her. "Michi isn't my maid."</p>
<p>"Really?" Aiko's smile is taunting. "Our mistake."</p>
<p>Sayuri tilts her head. She looks as if she's considering the fine art of body slamming Aiko into her desk. Michi yanks at her arm. "They're just trying to pick a fight," she mutters. "I don't care. Let's just go." She looks around the classroom again. A few of the boys look indecisive, but no one's taking their side. Most of the girls are watching Sayuri, waiting to see what she'll do. Aiko's mocking smile widens. "Aoi's got a point, Ichijo. Although I don't think any of the princes are desperate enough to run off with Tachibana."</p>
<p>A few of the girls laugh. Michi's shoulders curl inwards. She <em>hates </em>confrontation. Sayuri looks more than ready for a fight, but then news will get out and even the girls from other classes will hate her. Michi doesn't want that.</p>
<p>If someone else would just speak up...</p>
<p>Even as she thinks it, she knows no one will. People only do that in stories–</p>
<p>"Enough, Tsubara," says a familiar voice behind her. Kaname rests a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and a restraining one on Sayuri's. "You've crossed a line. Apologize."</p>
<p>Aiko's dark eyes are wide. Aoi looks as if she's been slapped, pale with fury and humiliation.</p>
<p>Aiko tosses her head and forces a laugh. "Kaname-senpai, we were just talking about the literature homework. I don't get why Tachibana's so upset–"</p>
<p>"<em>Apologize</em>, Tsubara."</p>
<p>Aiko goes pale. Michi doesn't blame her; Kaname's hazel-green eyes are almost as icy as Sayuri's. He isn't smiling.</p>
<p>"That was kinda mean, Aiko," one of the fan club girls mumbles, not looking at her. Just like that, the mood shifts. One of the boys who hangs out with Nagisa speaks up. "What d'you mean, Tachibana's her maid? They've been best friends since, like, forever."</p>
<p>"She's just jealous," his seatmate says, shrugging. "But yeah, that was pretty mean."</p>
<p>Kaname doesn't take his gaze off Aiko. She ducks her head, still pale. "My bad," she mutters.</p>
<p>"I won't allow bullying in this classroom," Kaname says evenly. "If I hear you've been doing it again, I'll tell Shishio-sensei. Understood?"</p>
<p>Aiko nods. Kaname smiles. Somehow his smile is scarier. "Good." He steers Michi and Sayuri over to their seats. The classroom gingerly lapses back into conversation. Aiko storms out, her eyes over-bright. Aoi and a few other members of the Prince Nagisa Protection Squad follow, but most stay in their seats, casting nervous glances at Kaname. Michi can already hear their adrenaline-laced whispers turning into excitement.</p>
<p>"That was so scary!" one girl says, awe in her voice. The girl sitting beside her wriggles breathlessly. "He looked like the prince from the story! So cool!"</p>
<p>"<em>Prince</em> Kaname," another says, her voice hushed. Michi sighs and gently smacks her forehead into the desk. She misses Tatsuya's reassuring bulk beside her.</p>
<p>"Are you alright?" Kaname breaks off from talking softly with his sister. Sayuri folds her arms across her chest, still frowning, but her face softens with concern as she looks over at Michi. Michi sits up again. "I'm fine," she says, shrugging. "They were just being stupid." <em>And Aiko's probably been looking for a chance to pick a fight since last week, </em>she adds silently to herself. She's more surprised that she tried to drag Sayuri into it, too. Even if Aiko isn't part of the Kaname-senpai Adoration Club, no one wants to get on Nagisa's or Jirou's bad side by trash talking Sayuri. Even Tatsuya is known to wake up enough to glare at boys who tease Sayuri too much.</p>
<p>"I should have told her off," Sayuri says flatly. "She's been egging the other girls on. Someone needs to take her down a peg."</p>
<p>"Let me handle that." Kaname glances at Michi. "You saw she was trying to pick a fight, didn't you?" he says. "And you didn't respond. Well done."</p>
<p>Michi colors. She's never heard Kaname praise anyone beside his sister before. "I didn't want Sayuri to get into trouble."</p>
<p>"You handled it well." Kaname rumples her hair affectionately. "But from now on, make sure Nagisa or one of the others is with you, okay? Just until this whole thing settles down."</p>
<p>Michi nods. She probably would have nodded if Kaname asked her to jump out the window.</p>
<p>"Alright," Sayuri sighs. "But if they start a fight, I'm finishing it."</p>
<p>"Fair enough." Kaname gets to his feet. "I'm going to go find Tatsuya. Someone should stick around Michi for a while. How about you two come with?"</p>
<p>"I don't need a bodyguard," Michi protests, flushing deeper.</p>
<p>"Tatsuya won't mind. He likes spending time with you, anyway." Kaname nudges his sister. "Let's go, Yuri."</p>
<p>Michi gets to her feet. The words <em>he likes spending time with you</em> echo pleasantly around her head. <em>Just as a friend, </em>she thinks<em>, that's all he meant</em>, but they stay stuck in her head for the rest of the day, whirling around and round in her mind.</p>
<p>Despite Kaname's warning, the rest of the week goes by without trouble. Aoi still looks murderous when she brushes by in the hall, and sometimes the other girls from the squad bump shoulders roughly in the bathroom or elbow her out of the way, but one of the princes seems to always be just behind her, casually moving between her and the crowd.</p>
<p>Aiko ignores her completely. Michi almost feels bad for her. The princes used to tolerate her the way they did with all the girls who would cluster around them, but now even Nagisa won't speak to her. Some of the other fan club members are avoiding her, too, afraid of losing their only connection to the Flower Princes. The formerly popular girl looks miserable.</p>
<p>Michi's noticed a shift in the class dynamic lately, too. Without Aiko, the class 1-A clique has dissolved. She sees classmates hanging out with freshmen from other classes, even upperclassmen from time to time. The girls still chatter about the Flower Princes, and the boys still make googly eyes at Sayuri, but Rose Academy has finally started to feel like a real school.</p>
<p>And one other thing has changed for the better, too.</p>
<p>Michi licks her ice cream. Coldness dots her nose. Sayuri giggles and passes her a napkin. Nagisa beats her to it, swiping a finger across the tip of her nose. "Thanks for the ice cream, Jiro," he says, licking his finger.</p>
<p>Jiro grunts. "I decided to let you come back," he says loftily to Sayuri. "This way I can beat you for the entire next semester."</p>
<p>"Like I beat you?" Sayuri takes a bite of her dripping cone. "I look forward to it, Kirishima."</p>
<p>"You came in second for the whole school, though, didn't you, Jirou?" Nagisa says helpfully, stealing a bite of Sayuri's cone. Sayuri pretends not to notice, but she tilts the dripping ice cone away from her lap. Michi holds hers closer as Nagisa leans against her. "Uh-uh. Steal someone else's," she says, and yelps as Jirou leans forward and takes a massive bite of her cone. "Gerroff!"</p>
<p>Kaname laughs. "You need better defenses, Michi."</p>
<p>"Why? She came in last of all of us," Jirou says wickedly, swallowing. "Even Saito, and he sleeps through all his classes."</p>
<p>Tatsuya blinks hazily. "I listen."</p>
<p>"Yeah, right. You were snoring halfway through the geography final." Jirou eyes Sayuri's half-eaten cone. She takes a deliberate bite, not taking her eyes off him.</p>
<p>"Hey, just because I'm not superhuman like the rest of you guys," Michi starts, a little irked.</p>
<p>"Michi did really well," Sayuri says loyally. "I bet she got a higher score than <em>you</em>, Kirishima."</p>
<p>"Um." Michi wriggles uncomfortably. Jirou's grey eyes glint. "Oh, really? Want to make a bet?"</p>
<p>"UM," Michi says, much louder.</p>
<p>"So what should we do over summer break?" Nagisa asks, stealing the opportunity to take another bite of Michi's cone. She glares at him. He smiles winningly, wiggling his mini vanilla ice cream moustache. She reaches for it, intending to pay him back in kind for what he did earlier, and squeaks and almost falls off the bench as he dodges.</p>
<p>"We should meet up for the summer festival," Kaname says, setting her back on the bench between himself and Nagisa. "There's one at Ryuudou Temple every year."</p>
<p>"We could catch fireflies near the river at night," Sayuri proposes, warming to the idea.</p>
<p>"I want to go to a music festival!" Nagisa bounces in his seat.</p>
<p>"There's a fireworks festival in August," Tatsuya says unexpectedly.</p>
<p>"It's settled." Kaname nods. "Shall we exchange phone numbers?"</p>
<p>"I've already got Sayuri-chan's!"</p>
<p>"Geez, just give me your phone, Ichijo."</p>
<p>"Tatsuya, I don't think I have yours…"</p>
<p>"Here." A silver iPhone is thrust under her nose. Michi looks up into very dark blue eyes. "Oh," she stammers, "I don't have a phone."</p>
<p>Tatsuya tilts his head. "Why not?"</p>
<p>"My parents said I can't have one until high school." She looks down again. "Sorry."</p>
<p>Tatsuya doesn't move. She stares at his black vans, embarrassed.</p>
<p>"Pen."</p>
<p>She blinks. "What?"</p>
<p>"Pen," he repeats, gesturing at the backpack by her feet. Bemused, she digs through it and hands him one. He sits down on the edge of the table and takes her wrist, uncapping the pen with his teeth.</p>
<p>His palm is cool against her skin. He braces her arm against his knee and carefully, trying not to press too hard, writes a phone number on her arm. "Now you can call me," he says simply, and hands her the pen.</p>
<p>"Thank you," she says, suddenly shy. He nods and goes back over to Kaname.</p>
<p>"I can give you mine too, right?" Nagisa asks, appearing at her elbow. Michi smiles. "Of course."</p>
<p>"Not that you really need it, since you're across the hall," Kaname says, writing his down anyways, after Nagisa finishes with an extra swirl that leaves an ink splotch on the back of her hand. Sayuri takes the pen from him. "For emergencies," she says firmly. "And murders."</p>
<p>"Hitting your emo stage a little early, Ichijo?" Jirou drawls. "And don't go looking at me like that, Tachibana. Of course I'm signing your stupid arm. Gimme."</p>
<p>Michi grins and holds her arm out wordlessly. Jirou turns it over in his hands, searching for a bare patch of skin, and shrugs. "Don't wash it off," he orders, scribbling his number on the back of her hand above Nagisa's ink splotch. Michi hugs her arm to her chest. "I won't."</p>
<p>Sayuri wriggles closer and threads her fingers through Michi's. Her hand is cold from holding her ice cream cone. "And we're going to finish that anime, right?"</p>
<p>"Yep!"</p>
<p>"Can I watch too? I like anime. What anime is it?" Nagisa asks without waiting for an answer. "Is it <em>Achromatize? </em>Ooh, is it <em>Elf Tails?</em> Have you seen <em>One Hit?"</em></p>
<p>"We can watch all of them," Michi says, laughing.</p>
<p>"But not until Michi and I have finished <em>Snow White with the Black Hair,"</em> Sayuri adds firmly. "And <em>Liberate!</em> You've been talking about that one for weeks."</p>
<p>"Oh, I finished <em>Liberate!</em> already," Michi says sheepishly. "I'm on <em>VolleyBallll!</em> now."</p>
<p>"Traitor." Sayuri nudges her shoulder teasingly. "Now you have to promise that you won't watch any more anime without me all break."</p>
<p>"Um..."</p>
<p>"I want to watch too," Nagisa says, pouting. Michi wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into the huddle. "We'll have an anime weekend at my house after," she promises. "You can pick the anime."</p>
<p>Nagisa cheers up immediately. "I'll bring ice cream!"</p>
<p>"Is it alright if I come?" Kaname asks.</p>
<p>"Of course," Sayuri says, looking a little offended that he would even ask.</p>
<p>"Tatsuya too," Kaname adds, patting Tatsuya's shoulder as his friend blinks sleepily. "It'll be good for him to get out of his room and take a break from gaming."</p>
<p>"Not until I beat you," Tatsuya mumbles, yawning.</p>
<p>"You bunch of otakus," Jirou snorts. "Fine. I'll bring some actual food so you all don't starve."</p>
<p>"Inviting yourself to the party, Kirishima?" Sayuri raises a pale brow.</p>
<p>"That's very rude, Jirou," Nagisa says seriously, laying his curly head on Michi's shoulder. Jirou ignores him. "Tachibana, I'll bring red bean buns."</p>
<p>"He can come," Michi says immediately. Sayuri turns green puppy eyes on her. "Traitor! You're choosing that jerk over your best friend?"</p>
<p>Jirou smirks. "Every person has their price."</p>
<p>"We'll finish our anime first," Michi says, squeezing her friend's hand. "And if Kirishima's mean we'll banish him from the pillow fort."</p>
<p>"Wow. I'm soooo scared." Jirou rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>"Don't worry, Kirishima. I won't let them banish you," Tatsuya says seriously. Everyone stares at him.</p>
<p>"...Thanks, Saito," Jirou says finally. Nagisa nestles his head in Michi's jacket. "It's gonna be the best summer vacation ever," he says contentedly.</p>
<p>Michi tentatively rests her cheek on his golden curls. He smells like sunflowers and spring. <em>Of course he does,</em> she thinks absently, watching the others.<em> Just like how Tatsuya smells like a fall breeze. It's a shoujo thing. It's a </em>good <em>shoujo thing. </em></p>
<p>Beside her, Sayuri curls up and rests her own head on Michi's shoulder. Michi shifts to make her comfortable, appreciating her warmth after the chill of the ice cream. Tatsuya looks like he's in danger of nodding off on Kaname's shoulder. Kaname is teasing Jirou, his ever-present gentle smile at odds with what he's saying. Jirou sputters and argues, but his gaze keeps flickering, as if he's trying not to look in their direction. Of all the Flower Princes, she's noticed, Jirou watches Sayuri the most.</p>
<p>Michi's lashes flick against Nagisa's golden curls. She thinks of her scribbled notes in her old journal back in her room. She keeps forgetting to update it. She wants to write moments like these down, in case...</p>
<p>Sayuri's breathing turns even. Her eyes are closed. Michi shifts again and gently pulls her closer so she won't slip off the bench. Nagisa looks as if he's falling asleep too, but she can never tell when he's just faking it. Still, it's a breezy July day, the sunlight warm on her face and puddled on her bare feet, perfect for a nap. The coolness of the ice cream is still sitting pleasantly in her stomach. Finals are over, school is done, and she starts thinking of the next forty days, of anime and red bean buns and pillow forts and Sayuri and Kaname right across the hall, of spending the weekends with Nagisa and Tatsuya and Jirou…</p>
<p>And she thinks, sleepily, that Nagisa is right, and that this will be the best summer vacation ever.</p>
<p>
  <em>But I should update my journal tonight, just in case…</em>
</p>
<p>But she never finishes the thought, because the warm July sunlight is hot and heavy on her skin, and Nagisa's curly head is as fluffy as a pillow, and Sayuri is warm and cozy beside her, and she's falling asleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks to everyone who's read this! Since the original manhwa is pretty unknown, I didn't really expect anyone to find this doodle of mine, and every read means a lot (:<br/>What do you think of my oh-so-subtle anime titles...?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter Ten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><a id="_Toc34077696" name="_Toc34077696"></a>Chapter Ten</p>
<p>
  <em>May, 2019</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The rain has stopped.</p>
<p>Michi blinks, her vision adjusting to the milky darkness. The usual glowing screen of her alarm clock is gone. The storm must have knocked the power out.</p>
<p>She rolls over in bed and fumbles on the nightstand for her phone. It isn’t there. She stumbles to her feet, reaching blindly for the lamp. Light floods the room. She blinks away the dancing black spots, and feels the first shiver ripple through her.</p>
<p>Her nightstand is empty. She can’t see her phone. The fancy alarm clock that Nagisa had given her for her birthday is missing, too. Textbooks are stacked in its place. She’s doesn’t remember putting them there. She doesn’t remember the old-fashioned wall clock, either.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m dreaming…</em>
</p>
<p>She checks underneath the bed, worrying that the phone fell down there. It’s already got a few cracks on the screen. Jirou had offered to buy her a new one instead, but she had barely managed to convince her parents to let him give her his old phone, cracks and all. She doesn’t want to break it.</p>
<p>Her phone isn’t under the bed. It’s not in her backpack, either, or on the dresser. She wanders over to her closet and stops mid-yawn.</p>
<p>A navy sailor suit sways gently on its hanger in the tiny closet. She stares at it, suddenly aware of her heart pulsing in her ears. She can’t see her uniform.</p>
<p>She fumbles through the rack, pushing aside the row of shirts. Her uniform isn’t there. In growing desperation she empties the clothes out onto the floor, tearing them off their hangers, one by one, and then digs through the pile again, convinced she somehow missed it. The sailor suit sits at the top of the heap, wrinkled and unfamiliar and unwanted.</p>
<p><em>Mom must have washed it, </em>she thinks, and abruptly remembers the rain. She clambers over her mattress, her fingers slipping on the window catch. The window slides open. She leans out, unconscious of the cold that soaks through her thin T-shirt. The sill is dry. She touches the cold glass. Dry. It’s as if the howling thunderstorm that kept her awake simply never happened.</p>
<p>“I’m dreaming,” she says out loud. “It’s just a dream.”</p>
<p>The wall clock ticks behind her. She turns, shivering. It’s two am. She has to get up for the first day of classes in five hours.</p>
<p>She looks at her desk, at the familiar laptop, the old cat-themed calendar hanging on the wall that she still hasn’t remembered to replace. She pulls numbly at it, fumbling through the scribbled pages. She finds the date, the words scrawled in bright blue ink underneath.</p>
<p>
  <em>Shoujo began today.</em>
</p>
<p>She exhales shakily. The numb panic that was clawing at her mind subsides, replaced by a sick feeling deep in her gut. She looks around for her phone, forgetting it isn’t there. <em>Who would be awake right now? Not Sayuri. One of the boys? Tatsuya stays up late gaming. And Jirou sleeps with his phone…</em></p>
<p>She looks back at the calendar. May second. Today’s date. A year ago today…</p>
<p>The world sways. She presses her hands to her eyes, trying to calm her pounding heart.</p>
<p><br/><em>I’ll go back to sleep, </em>she thinks numbly. <em>And when I wake up, it will all go back to normal. They’ll all be there. It’s just a nightmare. Just a bad dream. </em></p>
<hr/>
<p>“Michi!”</p>
<p>Sunlight fractures across her closed eyelids. Michi moans and opens her eyes. “Wha…?”</p>
<p>Mom is standing over her. “Who leaves their window open all night when it’s raining? You’re gonna catch a cold, you silly. And why are your clothes all over the floor?”</p>
<p>Michi props herself up on one elbow and stares blearily at the empty closet and the mound of clothes on the white carpet. Her black-and-white uniform sits neatly on top of the pile. Mom picks it up and dusts it off, still muttering. “At least it’s not too wrinkled. What happened? It looks like a tsunami went off in here.”</p>
<p>Last night comes rushing back. Michi bolts upright. “Mom! What school do I go to?”</p>
<p>Mom sighs. “You’ve been on break too long. Come on, Mich, you’re going to be late.”</p>
<p>“What school?”</p>
<p>“Rose Academy, of course. And this is the second time you’re running late on the first day.” Mom presses the back of her hand to Michi’s forehead, frowning. “Do you feel sick? You were being all weird last year, too.” She squints suspiciously. “Is this some trick to get out of the first day of classes? I won’t let you and Sayuri hang out if you’re both sick, you know.”</p>
<p><em>Sayuri. </em>Michi bounds out of bed. “Thanks Mom!”</p>
<p><br/>“That girl gets crazier every day,” Mom mutters, watching her dash off to the bathroom with her uniform. She shakes her head. “Maybe it’s a teenager thing. I should ask Ichigo-san…”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The hot shower chases the chill from her bones. Her mind is still whirling.</p>
<p>
  <em>What happened? Was it just a nightmare? Did I dream it all?</em>
</p>
<p>Her skin prickles. <em>My old life wasn’t just a dream…</em>this<em> is the dream. Am I finally waking up? Will everything just go back to how it was?</em></p>
<p>A knock jerks her out of her thoughts. Mom’s rapping on the bathroom door. “Michi! Your friend’s here!”</p>
<p>It still feels like a dream. She buttons up the white blouse, shrugs on the now-familiar long black jacket. The navy sailor suit keeps flashing through her mind. She can’t shake the feeling that everything is wrong.</p>
<p>She stares into the mirror, trying to ground herself. Her reflection, at least, hasn’t changed. She’s gotten a little taller. The jacket is a tight around her chest and shoulders now. Her dripping dark hair finally reaches her shoulders, but she knows it will just curl up to her chin again when it dries. All the tiny imperfections are still there. Her chin is a little too sharp, her nose too blunt, her eyes too small. There’s a zit on her forehead. The pristine white of the uniform washes her out. The black collar of the jacket makes her look even paler.</p>
<p><br/><em>No</em>, she thinks suddenly, overwhelmingly. <em>I don’t fit in this world…</em></p>
<p>Sayuri is waiting outside in the hall. The early morning sunlight glints in the dark blonde hair tumbling loose over her slender shoulders. She’s gotten even prettier over the past year. The childish roundness is starting to melt away, her face all soft angles and wide ethereal green eyes now, and when Michi, impulsively flinging her arms around her, buries her face in her jacket, she smells like the early morning sunlight.</p>
<p>“Good morning,” Sayuri laughs. She’s always happy in the mornings, even when they’re running late. “Overslept again?”</p>
<p>“Sorry for making you wait,”’ Michi mumbles, her voice muffled in the jacket. Sayuri ruffles her wet hair. “You’re gonna catch a cold, silly.”</p>
<p>“I’m fine.” Michi hugs her tighter. Sayuri’s voice softens. “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“Nothing.” Michi reluctantly untangles herself and steps back. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”</p>
<p>“I called Jirou. He and Nagisa are going to pick us up. I figured since your mom said you weren’t feeling well, you’d rather have a ride anyway.” Sayuri tilts her head. “If you’re sick, you should just stay home- “</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>Sayuri’s eyes widen. Michi manages a smile. “I’m fine. It’s the first day of classes. I want to go with you.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” Sayuri still doesn’t look convinced, but she turns to the elevator. “Come on. They should be here by now.”</p>
<p><br/>Michi slips her arm through hers, savoring the smell of her jacket, the warmth. “Okay,” she says. Sayuri looks at her curiously, but keeps her thoughts to herself.</p>
<p>The limousine is purring on the street outside. Nagisa opens the door for them, his usually sunny face wrinkled comically. “Jirou hasn’t had his coffee yet,” he warns, sliding back so that they can climb in. Michi takes one look at Jirou’s expression and hastily sits down next to Nagisa. Sayuri, fearless as usual, just gives Jirou a wry look. “Good morning.”</p>
<p>“No such thing,” Jirou growls.</p>
<p>“Thanks for picking us up,” Michi says. Jirou just glares at her and buries his face deeper in his jacket collar. Nagisa answers for him. “Michi-chan, do you always oversleep on the first day of school? You were late last year, too.”</p>
<p>“How do you remember that? I barely remember what I had for breakfast yesterday.” Michi makes a face. Nagisa grins. “I remember. You had leftover miso soup, even though that isn’t technically a breakfast food and you wanted to know whether it still counted as breakfast or just a really early lunch- “</p>
<p>“Okay, okay.” Michi elbows him. “I get it. You’re not like the rest of us mere mortals.”</p>
<p>“Speak for yourself,” Jirou grunts. Usually Michi would shoot back a retort, or tease him about how even mere mortals don’t need coffee to live, but today she only smiles and shakes her head. Her silence surprises him; she sees his pale brows shoot up beneath his ashy bangs. She looks away, not wanting to explain. Right now, everything makes her happy, even Jirou’s teasing.</p>
<p>Nagisa scoots closer and unexpectedly nestles his head on her shoulder. “We should go to school together every day,” he says.</p>
<p>“What do you think, Kirishima?” Sayuri scoots up to Jirou and lays her head on his shoulder, smiling wickedly. “<em>Every</em> day?”</p>
<p>“Get off,” Jirou says, a little pink around the ears.</p>
<p>Michi tunes out the sound of their bickering. Nagisa’s head is warm and heavy on her shoulder. She wraps her mind around that weight, grounding herself in the tickle of his curls against her cheek, in the warmth of the limo, in Jirou’s annoyed voice and Sayuri’s high lilting one across from her.</p>
<p><em>It’s real, </em>she thinks, <em>it’s not just a dream. This is real. </em></p>
<p>The car trembles. The spell wavers.</p>
<p>What would her normal life be like, right now? Would she be walking to school alone? She wouldn’t be riding in a limousine, that’s for sure. She almost smiles at the thought. No, she wouldn’t ever ride in a limo. And Nagisa wouldn’t be falling asleep on her shoulder, his curly mop of hair tickling her cheek. He wouldn’t steal her food, or sit on her desk when she’s trying to study, or call her Nee-san, as if he knows it secretly makes her happy…</p>
<p>Tatsuya wouldn’t be there. She still doesn’t really know how she feels about him, but she would miss falling asleep listening to music together. And she would miss his rare smiles, and the way he’d rather pull her along than just talk to her, and how his hands are always so gentle…</p>
<p>She bites her lip. Jirou. She would miss him, too. She likes their back-and-forth banter. He’s still the most aloof of the princes, but it makes their interactions special. He brings out a dramatic side of her she didn’t know she had, until she met him. Only Jirou can be teasing one moment and dramatic the next. She likes playing his game, trying beat him to the quickest retort, the most exaggerated sarcasm. School would be so much more boring without him.</p>
<p>And what would life be like without Kaname? She’s gotten so used to him bustling around her and Sayuri during their study nights, quietly refilling their tea pot or leaning over her shoulder to correct some mistake in her homework. The way he can switch from doting brother to evil mastermind is scary, but even that’s weirdly nice. He makes her feel safe in this strange world. Nothing will happen to her or Sayuri while he’s around.</p>
<p>And Sayuri. She looks across from her. Sayuri is still teasing Jirou, her green eyes sparkling with laughter. Even in the tinted light, she shines with life, warm and bright and vital.</p>
<p><em>Like the sun</em>, Michi thinks. <em>Like stepping outside a dark cave for the first time and seeing sunlight. So bright it almost blinds you. So perfect it’s impossibly real. So warm that you wonder how you’ve lived without it. </em></p>
<p>What if she is waking up? How will her small, dark cave seem after seeing the sun? How will she be able to go back to normal?</p>
<p><em>I don’t like this world, </em>she thinks fiercely, burying her face in Nagisa’s curly hair. <em>I don’t like it. It’s stupid and weird and the people are stupid and weird and nothing makes sense and I don’t understand what’s going on. </em></p>
<p><em>But…I like </em>these<em> people. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>I don’t want to wake up anymore. </em>
</p>
<p>She thinks of the rain, the sailor uniform, the unfamiliar room, and squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to go back. But she doesn’t know how to stay. Maybe she’ll open her eyes, and they’ll all be gone –</p>
<p>Warm fingers curl around hers. She feels Nagisa shift slightly, feels his warm palm clasp hers tightly. She squeezes back, her eyes burning behind their closed lids.</p>
<p><em>I don’t want to go back, </em>she thinks, and even inside her head her voice is small.</p>
<p>It’s been a year. Maybe, if she keeps wanting to stay, then maybe –</p>
<p>“Shh!” Sayuri says suddenly. “They fell asleep.”</p>
<p>“We’re almost at school,” Jirou grumbles. “We have to wake them up anyway.”</p>
<p>“Shh!”</p>
<p>“Don’t <em>poke</em> me.”</p>
<p>“SHHH!”</p>
<p>Nagisa quivers with silent laughter. Michi tightens her grip on his hand.</p>
<p><em>Until I go, </em>she thinks, <em>until I wake up, I want more moments like this. I want to be with them until the very last moment. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>Until I wake up. </em>
</p>
<p>And in what feels like only a moment, two more years go by.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>First arc finished! (Writer's block has been suspiciously absent...we shall see)<br/>Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter Eleven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><a id="_Toc35449879" name="_Toc35449879"></a>Chapter Eleven</p>
<p>
  <em>May, 2020</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Something is going to happen.</p>
<p>She can feel it like a shiver in her bones the moment she steps off the train. There was no nightmare last night. For the first time in three years, she had woken up on May 2<sup>nd</sup> as if it were any other day. In the sleepy lull of the train ride, she had almost forgotten.</p>
<p>
  <em>Three years ago I woke up in this world…</em>
</p>
<p>The air shivers through her, so different from the sunlit spring morning she left behind. The salty wind sweeps her hair across her face. Her first glimpse of the sea is blurred through a film of dark strands. Like a curtain tumbling down. Her heart squeezes in her chest.</p>
<p>
  <em>Something is going to happen today…</em>
</p>
<p>Gentle fingers tuck her hair away. Sayuri’s green eyes are bright despite the dark sky. The wind’s chased a flush into her ivory skin, her golden hair fluttering around her. She’s unnaturally vivid against the overcast horizon. Her fingers are warm on Michi’s cheek.</p>
<p>Michi shivers. “I’m fine,” she says, shaking her hair away. “Still just waking up.”</p>
<p>“It was a long ride,” Sayuri agrees, covering a yawn. “I’m glad we could all sleep on the way.”</p>
<p>“Where did the boys go?” Michi asks, looking around. The train station opens up on an empty street. Tourist shops line the other side. The beach stretches along their side of the pavement, the sand shadowed beneath the spreading clouds. The sea is a restless dark grey, reflecting the stormy skies.</p>
<p>“They went across the street. Nagisa said it’s a tradition to eat cup ramen on the beach.” Sayuri sounds vaguely dubious of Nagisa’s traditions.</p>
<p>Michi blinks; she has no memory of this. “Why didn’t you go with them?”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t going to just abandon you,” Sayuri says, offended.</p>
<p>“We could have <em>both</em> gone,” Michi says mildly, eying the cozy-looking convenience store. The wind is trying to shove her hair into her mouth again.</p>
<p>Sayuri shrugs. “I wanted to see the sea.”</p>
<p>Michi looks at the sea. The dirty grey expanse of salt water is dangerously calm. Lightning flashes ominously in the distance. She feels like she’s waiting for a horror movie to start.</p>
<p>“Isn’t it pretty?” Sayuri asks blissfully.</p>
<p>“Mmm,” Michi says.</p>
<p>“I haven’t seen the sea since I was little. My grandmother took my brothers and I to Osaka once. I don’t remember much, but the sea was always so pretty, even in the winter. I didn’t know grey could be so beautiful.”</p>
<p>“Mmm,” Michi says. Sayuri has that distant, pensive look on her face that means her fingers are itching to reach for her brush and an empty canvas. “It was so beautiful,” she repeats. “I’d forgotten.”</p>
<p>“How old were you?” Michi asks curiously.</p>
<p>“Four. I don’t remember much. Kaname doesn’t either. Yukio does, but he doesn’t talk about it. Dad told him he had to take care of us while he was gone.” Sayuri doesn’t take her eyes off the sea. Thunder rumbles softly in the distance. “He didn’t want us there for the funeral. That’s why Grandmother took us to Osaka. But I only really remember the sea. And Yukio.”</p>
<p>Michi doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what to say. She knows that Sayuri and Kaname’s mom died when they were little. Sayuri had told her once, casually, when she asked about it. Kaname had never spoken of it at all, and Michi never brought the topic up again.</p>
<p>She reaches down and impulsively slips her fingers through Sayuri’s. Sayuri smiles faintly and squeezes her hand. “I’m glad I could come back,” she says. “With you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Michi thrusts her free hand into her jacket pocket. Her fingers are getting cold. “I’m glad my first time seeing the ocean is with you.” She squeezes Sayuri’s hand. “It’s even the same color.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Sayuri smiles. “It really is a beautiful color.”</p>
<p>“Mm.” Michi spits out a strand of hair. Sayuri giggles, and the pensive mood is gone. With a start, Michi realizes that Sayuri’s fingers are freezing in hers. She rubs them vigorously. “Aren’t you cold? Didn’t you bring gloves?” she demands.</p>
<p>“They’re in Kaname’s pocket,” Sayuri says guiltily. Michi sighs. “Here, stick your hands in my pockets. You have the survival instincts of a Christian martyr, you know that?”</p>
<p>“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Sayuri pouts.</p>
<p>“You’re not allowed to freeze to death on my first ever vacation. Come on, let’s go join the guys. It’ll be warmer inside the store.”</p>
<p>Sayuri obediently unhooks her hands from Michi’s pockets. Michi unwraps her scarf. “You can have this, too. At least until you warm up,” she says firmly, tucking it around Sayuri’s flushed face.</p>
<p>“Aren’t you cold?” Sayuri protests, her voice muffled in the scarf.</p>
<p>“No,” Michi lies. “I’ve got my jacket. You should have worn something warmer than a jean jacket, baka.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t cold back in Yukigaoka.”</p>
<p>A sudden gust of wind flings Michi’s hair across her face as she opens her mouth to reply. She sputters. Sayuri blinks up at her over the oversized red scarf. “Are you sure-“ she starts, pulling the scarf down from her face. A voice interrupts her. “Hey, you!”</p>
<p>Sayuri glances over her shoulder. Michi is already moving in front of her. “Excuse us,” she says, surprised to hear her voice come out steadily.</p>
<p>“I’m not talking to you,” the stranger says rudely. He’s bigger even than Kaname, towering over her, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his face half-hidden beneath his cap. His two buddies flank him, grinning and nudging each other as they leer at Sayuri. “I’m talking to the pretty one. Hey, gorgeous, wanna come hang out with us? We’ve got beer ‘n stuff.”</p>
<p>“You know them?” Sayuri whispers.</p>
<p>“No,” Michi mutters back. The situation seems to dawn on Sayuri. She lifts her chin. “No, thank you,” she says coolly. “Come on, Michi.”</p>
<p>“Whoa, hold up!” the leader moves to block their way. “Look, you can bring your friend too, okay?”</p>
<p>Sayuri tilts her head, her green eyes like shards of colored glass. “I said <em>no thank you</em>.”</p>
<p>“Come on, don’t be like that.” The leader takes off his cap. He’s handsome, in a vaguely bad-boy kind of way, with messy brown hair and jet-black eyes. His smile is quick and boyishly charming, but the way he steps closer to Sayuri makes Michi’s skin prickle. She looks around frantically. The street is empty. The distant sound of thunder is growing louder.</p>
<p>“Come here.” The boy reaches for Sayuri. Michi moves without thinking. “Leave us alone,” she says sharply, knocking his hand aside. The boy’s charming smile vanishes. “Stay out of it, bitch.”</p>
<p>Sayuri’s fist bounces harmlessly off his arm. The boy gapes at her for a moment. One of his buddies laughs. “She’s feisty, Iwatani!”</p>
<p> Michi grabs Sayuri’s arm as the other girl pulls back for round two. “Let’s go!”</p>
<p>Iwatani grabs her arm. “Geez, what’s your fricking problem? Too good to stay and talk to us?” He yanks. She stumbles, trips over her own feet, and goes sprawling in the sand. Raucous laughter pounds in her ears. Her mind goes blank.</p>
<p>“Stop!” Sayuri’s voice rises. Michi scrambles to her feet. Sayuri flings out an arm before she can move. Her eyes blaze, but her voice is steel-calm. “Michi, go get Kaname.”</p>
<p>“Ooh, you’ve got competition, Iwatani!” one of the boys crows. The other guy grabs Michi’s arm as she hesitates. “Aw, leaving already?” he jeers.</p>
<p>Michi’s heart thumps in her chest. The boy sees her glance across the street and tightens his grip on her arm. “Hey,” he says, giving her a little shake, “who’s Kaname? The boyfriend?”</p>
<p>“Let go of Michi!” Sayuri’s voice breaks for the first time. Iwatani laughs. “That’s her name? Like the slutty maid?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“You know, that myth about the princess!”</p>
<p>“What the hell, Iwatani! Who knows that crap?”</p>
<p>“Shut up, Sato.”</p>
<p>The boy holding Michi laughs. He’s shorter than the others, his orange hoodie pulled low over his face against the wind. “You’re such a nerd, Iwatani.”</p>
<p>“Still better-looking than you,” Iwatani retorts. “Hey, Hotaru, check it out. Sato’s got the slutty maid.”</p>
<p>The other boy guffaws. Michi yanks at the boy’s grip. “Let me go!”</p>
<p>Sayuri’s voice cuts across the wind. “My brother and his friends are coming to find us,” she says. “We don’t want to start a fight. Let us go.”</p>
<p>“She’s lying,” Sato laughs. He shakes Michi again. “Hey, maid, is she lying?”</p>
<p>Michi clamps her mouth shut and glares up at him. He guffaws. “This one’s feisty, too. Geez, what a bunch of bitches. We’re just teasing you.” He shoves Michi back. She retreats to Sayuri’s side, panting. She can’t catch her breath. Her heart is jackhammering against her ribs. She’s dimly aware of Sayuri’s voice rising, of raucous laughter, a hand reaching for her –</p>
<p>A hand grips her shoulder, warm and oddly familiar. Her vision clears. She looks up into Kaname’s steady green eyes.</p>
<p>“Frick, it’s the boyfriend!”</p>
<p>“Dude, chill. We were just messing around. Hey, you–“</p>
<p>Kaname ignores them. “Are you alright?” he asks. Sayuri is bristling. “They hurt Michi!”</p>
<p><em>I’m okay</em>, Michi tries to say, but it comes out as a gasp. She doubles over, trying to catch her breath.</p>
<p>“Nagisa,” Kaname says quietly. Nagisa’s face pops into Michi’s blurred field of vision. He isn’t smiling. “Hey, Michi-chan, just sit down and breathe, okay? Deep breaths.”</p>
<p>“Kaname –“</p>
<p>“Stay here, Sayuri.”</p>
<p>“We were just messing around. What, you gonna fight all of us?”</p>
<p>There’s a dull <em>thunk.</em> Nagisa kneels down in front of Michi. “Look at me, okay? Breathe. Everything’s fine.”</p>
<p>“Kana–“ she wheezes.</p>
<p>“Kaname’ll be fine,” Nagisa says reassuringly. “He’s never lost a fight. C’mon, breathe with me. Deep breath in.”</p>
<p>She breathes obediently. The roaring in her ears subsides. Nagisa squeezes her shoulders gently. “You’ve got asthma, doncha, Michi-chan? It’s okay. Just breathe out for me. And again. There we go.”</p>
<p>Michi takes a shuddering breath. “It’s never been this bad before,” she gasps, and coughs. Nagisa pats her back. “I know. It happens. You were probably scared and panicky. Deep breath in?”</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” Sayuri’s remorseful blue eyes appear besides Nagisa’s. Michi manages a smile. “Yeah. Sorry. You good?”</p>
<p>She nods. “They’re gone now. Kaname hit the one who shoved you.”</p>
<p>“Is he okay?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine.” Kaname squats down beside her, rubbing his knuckles. “How are you feeling, Michi?”</p>
<p>“I’m okay,” she mumbles. Two more shadows appear on the sand next to her. Kaname straightens up again. “Don’t crowd her. Let her breathe.”</p>
<p>“Michi was really brave,” Sayuri says.</p>
<p>Michi shakes her head. “I should’ve –“ she coughs –“I should’ve gone and gotten them like you said. I’m sorry.” Her eyes are stinging. She rubs them roughly. “I didn’t want to leave you alone, I’m sorry –“</p>
<p>“Michi-chan, don’t forget to breathe.” Nagisa rubs her shoulders reassuringly. “C’mon, deep breath. There we go. And out again. Good.”</p>
<p>“You <em>were</em> brave.” Sayuri reaches out and grips her trembling hand. “I wouldn’t have been able to stay calm if you hadn’t been there.”</p>
<p><em>You</em> <em>were the brave one</em>, Michi wants to say, but she’s scared she’ll start crying if she opens her mouth. Her hands won’t stop shaking. She’s never felt like this before. Like she can’t even control her own body.</p>
<p>Nagisa rubs her shoulders again. “Let’s get you somewhere warm, okay?”</p>
<p>“I’ll call a taxi,” Kaname says. “Jirou, can you give them directions?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, here, I’ll call.”</p>
<p>A jacket settles around Michi’s shoulders. She looks up gratefully at Tatsuya. “I’m okay,” she says breathlessly, and scrubs at her eyes with the heel of one hand. She squeezes Sayuri’s hand. “Really. I’m okay now.”</p>
<p>Her hands are still shaking. Sayuri doesn’t let go. “That was scary,” she says, and sniffles a little. “I’m glad you’re okay.”</p>
<p>“Hey,” Michi says, alarmed as a tear rolls down Sayuri’s cheek. “I’m fine, really. We’re fine. We’re okay. You don’t need to cry.”</p>
<p>Nagisa wraps an arm around Sayuri’s shoulders as she sniffles again. “It’s okay. You guys were in a really scary situation. It’s okay to be scared,” he says soothingly. “You too, Michi-chan.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t that scary,” Michi mumbles, rubbing her eyes again. Sayuri gives a strangled laugh. “This isn’t how I imagined vacation.”</p>
<p>“Vacation hasn’t started yet,” Michi says stubbornly. “Not like this.”</p>
<p>“Mm.” Sayuri fishes in her pocket for a tissue. Tatsuya nudges Michi’s arm aside and rustles through the jacket pockets. He produces a handful of tissues. Sayuri blows her nose. “Thanks, Tatsuya.”</p>
<p>“Are you alright?” he wants to know, his dark eyes concerned over the black mask. She nods and wipes her eyes on her sleeve. “I’m okay now. We were just unlucky, I think.”</p>
<p>Nagisa hugs her closer. “We won’t leave you guys alone for the rest of the trip,” he promises. She sniffles. “No standing outside the bathroom while I shower.”</p>
<p>“We’ll make Jirou do that.”</p>
<p>“Make me do what?” Jirou says suspiciously. He nudges Michi with his foot. “You guys okay?”</p>
<p>Michi turns her face away. “Yeah,” she mumbles, trying to indiscreetly wipe her eyes on her jacket collar.</p>
<p>A chocolate bar is thrust before her. “I went back to the store while Kaname was calling a taxi,” Jirou says brusquely. “I couldn’t find dark chocolate, but it’s trash anyway.”</p>
<p>“Hey,” Sayuri says, unwrapping hers. “Not true.”</p>
<p>“Some of us have taste buds, Ichijo.” Jirou’s tone softens the tiniest bit. “The taxi should be here in a few minutes. Do you guys want to wait where it’s warm?”</p>
<p>Sayuri shakes her head. “Cup ramen by the sea, right?” she says, and smiles at Nagisa. “It’s a tradition.”</p>
<p>He smiles back. “For good memories,” he agrees. “Tatsuya’s got the ramen. Although it might be a bit cold now,” he adds, a little less enthusiastically.</p>
<p>“It’ll still taste good.” Sayuri gets to her feet and offers a hand to Michi. “Come on. We want a good memory for your first trip to the sea, right?”</p>
<p>“We don’t have to,” Michi protests. Sayuri lifts her chin. “I want to. It’ll be fun. I want to remember this grey sea as a good memory.”</p>
<p>Michi looks across the beach at the restless water. Her hands have finally stopped shaking, but her chest still hurts.</p>
<p><em>Was that it?</em> She wonders. <em>Is this why I felt uneasy before? Was it just the grey sea, and the storm, and a bad encounter? Was that all?</em></p>
<p>She shivers. No one notices. The others are crowding around Tatsuya, passing each other the foam cups and arguing over flavors. Sayuri is in the middle of the group, clutching her steaming ramen in both hands. The scarf is still wrapped around her chin, her hair tumbling around her flushed face. There are still tear tracks on her cheeks, but she’s smiling, her head tucked against Nagisa’s shoulder. Kaname stands protectively behind her, shielding her from the wind. Jirou and Tatsuya are fighting over the last chicken flavored ramen. Even in the cold and wind, they’re bright against the grey and pale sand, a little too vivid, a little too perfect. The people walking past on the street are starting to stare.</p>
<p><em>And that’s</em> normal, she thinks. <em>That’s the way it’s been for the past three years. Them, and the rest of this world. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>And me, somewhere in between. </em>
</p>
<p>She shivers again. Something still feels wrong.</p>
<p>“Michi!” Sayuri calls. “Come eat!”</p>
<p>“She’s posing by the water,” Jirou laughs. “Quick, someone take a picture.”</p>
<p>Michi makes a face at him and trots over. “Was not.”</p>
<p>“Michi, here, I saved the beef ramen for you.” Sayuri presses the steaming cup into Michi’s hands and zips up the oversized jacket protectively. “Are you still cold? You can have your scarf back.”</p>
<p>Michi shakes her head. “Keep it.” Tatsuya’s jacket smells like the promise of snow. She buries her nose in the upturned collar gratefully. Sayuri slips a slender arm around her waist. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” she murmurs, her voice muffled in the jacket. Michi hugs her back. “You too. You sure you’re alright?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Those guys were jerks. Especially the one who grabbed you.”</p>
<p>“It’s alright.” Sayuri smiles serenely. “Kaname broke his nose.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Michi reflects for a moment. “Good.”</p>
<p>Light flashes in their faces. Michi blinks, bemused, as Nagisa beams at them and raises his phone again. “Say cheese!”</p>
<p>“Wait–“ Michi starts, conscious of her tear-blotched face. Sayuri just laughs and whirls her around to face the sea.</p>
<p>Light flashes. Nagisa props his phone on the ground and runs to join them. “Group photo! Come on, guys!”</p>
<p>Michi closes her eyes as a gust of wind thrusts her hair away from her face. Sea spray stings her cheeks. She tastes the salt on her lips. Tatsuya’s arm slips around her shoulders. Kaname is steadying Sayuri as wobbles, giggling, under Nagisa’s weight as he flings an arm around her and Michi. “Make room for Jirou!” he cries, and Michi squeaks as her feet are suddenly swept off the sand. Sayuri laughs and wrap an arm around Kaname’s shoulders.</p>
<p>Light flashes, framing them against the stormy sky: Kaname, Jirou, and Tatsuya, dark silhouettes against the lightning-sprayed sky, the two girls dangling between them, their hair tossed back, Nagisa in the middle, twisting to pose for the camera.</p>
<p>Michi takes a sharp breath.</p>
<p><em>This is real. </em> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am very determined to finish this story. And who knows? Maybe even go back and finish some of my other (very neglected, horribly abandoned) stories.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter Twelve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><a id="_Toc35449880" name="_Toc35449880"></a>Chapter Twelve</p><p> </p><p>“I’m starving,” Sayuri announces.</p><p>“You’re always starving.” Michi rubs her dripping hair vigorously with a towel and reaches for her shirt. “Didn’t you eat half of Kaname’s ramen earlier?”</p><p>“No,” she says, offended.</p><p>“Because you didn’t want to, or because he wouldn’t let you?”</p><p>Sayuri makes a face. “…He didn’t let me. Don’t laugh! And that was hours ago. It’s almost dinnertime now.” She stretches out on the bed, thrusting her arms over her head and arching her back, cat-like. Michi eyes her slender figure enviously. She’s long since figured out that shoujo heroines, unlike the rest of them mere mortals, can eat constantly and never gain an ounce. It’s one of the unspoken laws of this world that irks her. She prods her own stomach self-consciously. She’s never really thought about it much before, but Mom’s started making pointed comments about eating healthier, and her clothes have been uncomfortably tight these past few months.</p><p>“Did Jirou say anything about dinner?” Sayuri asks, sitting up again. Michi shrugs. “Takeout, probably.”</p><p>Sayuri sighs longingly. “I want fried chicken.”</p><p>“That’s only for holidays, silly.”</p><p>“It’s a holiday, isn’t it?”</p><p>“This one doesn’t count.” Michi gives her hair one final rub and combs her fingers through the damp strands. Her hair’s finally grown out past her shoulders. She’s tempted to cut it again, but part of her wants long hair like Sayuri’s. “If you ask Jirou, he’ll probably get some for you,” she adds.</p><p>Sayuri giggles. “Yeah right. He’d just tease me.”</p><p>“Nagisa would side with you, though.”</p><p>“That’s cause Nagisa likes food even more than me.”</p><p>“What about Tatsuya? He would definitely get you fried chicken any day of the week.” Michi sits down on the other side of the bed. “He makes these big mournful puppy eyes whenever you’re sad. He would probably buy you a whole bucket of fried chicken.” She grins at Sayuri, expecting a laugh, but Sayuri has an oddly serious expression. “Tatsuya would do that for you, too,” she says, her green eyes clouding.</p><p>“Oh, he wouldn’t,” Michi says lightly. Sayuri shakes her head. “He would,” she insists. “You’re his friend, too.”</p><p>“I mean, yeah, but that’s different.”</p><p>Sayuri tilts her head. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“Never mind.” Michi shifts. “Come on, let’s see what’s for dinner.”</p><p>Sayuri doesn’t move. “You know, even if you and Tatsuya had a fight, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still care about you.”</p><p>Michi blows out her breath. “Does <em>everyone</em> know about that? Look, it’s not about that, I promise.”</p><p>Sayuri tilts her head the other way. “Then what? I don’t understand.”</p><p>Michi looks into her wide, childlike eyes, and sighs. “Tatsuya <em>is</em> my friend. But we’re not – well, we’re not that close. I can’t just ask him for stuff. But you’ve known him since you were little. Of course he’d do more for you. It’s the same with Nagisa and Jirou. I’m not saying we’re not friends,” she adds hastily, as Sayuri’s eyes blaze. “It’s just, well, you’re closer to all the guys. They only really spend time with me because I’m friends with you.” She runs her fingers though her hair. “It’s not a bad thing, Sayuri. That’s just how the world works.”</p><p>“That’s not true,” Sayuri says hotly. “You’re their friend, too.”</p><p>“I know. But…” Michi bites her lower lip. “It’s different, okay?”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“Don’t look at me like that.” Michi swings her legs over the side of the bed and scoots closer. “They <em>are</em> my friends. And I care a lot about them. But you’re pretty and outgoing and smart and–“</p><p>“So are you!”</p><p>Michi gives her a look. Sayuri thrusts her chin out stubbornly. “You <em>are</em>.”</p><p>Michi sighs again. “Yuri,” she starts, and changes what she was going to say. “Look, I didn’t mean to argue. I’m sorry. It’s not really important.” She gets to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go find out what dinner plans are.”</p><p>“I still think you’re wrong,” Sayuri says, frowning. Michi laughs softly. “I know. That’s what makes you an awesome best friend,” she says, and stoops to gently flick her furrowed forehead. “You are wonderfully oblivious to my many flaws. Come on.” She takes her hands and tugs. Sayuri reluctantly gets to her feet. “That’s because you don’t have any,” she grumbles, following Michi down the sleek wooden stairs. Michi only laughs. “See? You spoil me rotten. Any more and I’ll end up like Jirou.”</p><p>“You’ll what?” Jirou drawls, looking up from the TV.</p><p>“Mean,” Sayuri retorts, ignoring him. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”</p><p>“Oi,” Jirou says.</p><p>Michi flings herself onto the sofa next to him, giggling. “Really? Jirou-kun, do you think I could ever be like you?”</p><p>“You could be so lucky,” he shoots back. Sayuri plops down in between them. “I would never curse you like that, Michi,” she says seriously. Jirou whacks her with a throw pillow. “Excuse <em>you</em>. I’m fabulous.”</p><p>“Pillow fight!” Nagisa chirps, grabbing a decorative pillow off the other sofa. Tatsuya ducks as it sails past his nose and hits Sayuri. Nagisa blinks. “Oops.”</p><p>Sayuri grabs it and turns on Jirou. He yelps and dodges. Michi tumbles off the sofa, giggling as Kaname calmly catches a pillow mid-air without looking up from his book. “Don’t hurt Yuri, please.”</p><p>“She’s hurting <em>me</em>,” Jirou complains, lying facedown on the carpet as Sayuri smacks his back with a pillow. She growls. “It’s not fair if you don’t put up a fight!”</p><p>Jirou sighs theatrically. “You asked,” he says, and lunges for the pillow. Sayuri topples back onto the couch with a squeak. Kaname sighs and closes his book. Jirou makes a very undignified noise as Kaname looms over him. Nagisa laughs and pelts them both with pillows.</p><p>Michi takes refuge behind Tatsuya as Jirou collapses on Sayuri and sends both of them tumbling to the floor. Despite Sayuri’s furious squeaking, Michi can tell that Jirou is being careful not to accidentally crush her. Kaname can probably tell as well, because Jirou is still conscious despite the pounding he’s getting. Still, she didn’t know small decorative throw pillows could leave bruises before.</p><p>Nagisa grows bored of the one-sided fight and bounds onto the other sofa. “Tatsuya, to arms!” he cries. Tatsuya blinks. “Um–“</p><p>Nagisa’s pillow nails him in the forehead. Tatsuya blinks again and slowly picks the pillow up. Nagisa bounces expectantly. Tatsuya hefts the pillow, stands up, and carefully thrusts it into the smaller boy’s chest. Nagisa tumbles off the sofa with a yelp. Tatsuya turns back to Michi. She flings her hands up defensively. “Hey, I didn’t hit you.”</p><p>“Michi-chan! Avenge me!”</p><p>“Nagisa, he literally just killed you in one blow.”</p><p>Nagisa flops onto his side and gives her the wide irresistible puppy eyes. Michi groans. “Nooo. Okay. Fine.” She stoops and picks up a pillow. “Please don’t kill me?”</p><p>Tatsuya cocks his head to the side. Michi throws the pillow. It sails neatly over his shoulder. She winces. Tatsuya hefts a pillow. She squeaks and dives onto the other sofa.</p><p>“Michi!” Sayuri cries, her voice muffled from somewhere under Jirou. He’s sitting on her, balancing against the arm of the sofa with one hand and fending off Kaname with the other. Michi sets her jaw.</p><p>The look on Jirou’s face when she tackles him is almost worth getting hit in the side of the head by Kaname. He drops the pillow, genuine regret flickering across his face. “Ah. My bad. Are you okay, Michi?”</p><p>She throws the pillow at him. Jirou promptly rolls over and squashes her. Sayuri, freed from her captivity, starts beleaguering him about the head. Kaname picks up another pillow and staggers as Nagisa jumps onto his back with a shrill war cry.</p><p>They end up in a massive dogpile. Sayuri clambers triumphantly on top of Nagisa, and hastily scrambles off again as Michi wheezes. Jirou grits his teeth. He’s on his hands and knees above her, straining under Kaname’s weight as Nagisa untangles himself from the top of the pile. “A little help?” he grunts. Michi clutches his shirt. “Please don’t let them squash me.”</p><p>He grimaces down at her. “Trying.”</p><p>Tatsuya wanders over and plucks Sayuri free. Michi can’t see much from under the tangle of limbs, but the weight crushing her chest eases. She sucks in a breath. Jirou rolls off her, wheezing. “Geez, Ichijo, how much do you weigh?”</p><p>“Don’t make me kick your butt again,” Sayuri warns. Michi rolls onto her back. “Thanks,” she pants. Jirou shrugs. “You’re flat enough already. Oof!”</p><p>Sayuri picks up another pillow. “I <em>will</em> kick your butt again.”</p><p>Michi pokes him. “Jerk,” she mumbles, ears pink. He rubs his chest. “Sorry.”</p><p>She stares up at him, eyes wide. He blinks. “What?”</p><p>“Nothing,” she says quickly. She sits up, ignoring Sayuri’s triumphant <em>I-told-you-they-care</em> expression. “So,” she says brightly, as Jirou hauls himself to his feet and Kaname starts picking up the fallen pillows, “what’s for dinner?”</p><p>“Fried chicken!” Sayuri says.</p><p>“That’s for holidays, idiot,” Jirou says, dusting himself off.</p><p>“That’s two votes for fried chicken!”</p><p>“I want fried chicken!” Nagisa says.</p><p>Tatsuya blinks. “Sure.”</p><p>“Fried chicken sounds good,” Kaname adds. Michi catches Sayuri’s eye and grins. Sayuri bounces on the arm of the couch. “Fried chicken it is! Who wants to order?”</p><p>Michi shakes her head. <em>She really doesn’t know, </em>she thinks. Maybe it’s another heroine thing, like never having bad breath, or bedheads.</p><p>She crisscrosses her legs and rubs her arms absently, trying to chase the goosebumps away. The bay doors are open, the gauzy green curtains fluttering in the cold breeze sweeping up from the sea. The whole house is soaked with the heavy tang of salt water. She takes a deep breath, feeling her heart settle in rhythm with the endless distant thrum of the waves.</p><p>She’s grown used to watching them. The boys have formed their tiny circle again, Sayuri at its center. She’s balancing on the arm of the sofa, one long bare leg draped idly across the black leather, leaning against Kaname as he absentmindedly plays with one of her damp curls. Tatsuya stands a little behind Kaname, turned away from Michi. She can only see the striking line of his profile, the twitch in his black sweatpants as he fiddles with the earbuds in his pocket. His dark lashes –it should be <em>inhuman</em> to have lashes that long– are half-lowered, sleepy, but his gaze never leaves Sayuri. She turns her attention quickly to Jirou. He’s sitting on the back of the sofa, legs crossed, leaning forward, his eyes glinting as he teases Sayuri. His eyes remind her of the sea; that stormy, unreadable kind of bluish-grey that thaws to warmth when Sayuri laughs despite herself. Like the sun melting a frosty autumn day. Nagisa is at his feet, his curly head tilted back, his amber eyes crinkling as he tickles Sayuri’s bare foot with a fingertip and waits mischievously for her to notice.  </p><p>Her gaze is pulled irresistibly back to Sayuri. Sayuri’s green eyes meet hers, and she realizes, with a start, that while she’s been watching the others look at Sayuri, Sayuri’s been watching her.</p><p>Sayuri tilts her head, her lips flickering upwards as if to say, <em>aren’t they funny? Don’t we have such strange friends?</em></p><p>Michi smiles and shakes her head slightly. Sayuri wriggles her eyebrows and beams as Michi snorts a laugh.</p><p>“Stop flirting, you two,” Jirou drawls. “Are we getting fried chicken or not?”</p><p>“Jealous, Kirishima?”</p><p>“You wish, Ichijo.”</p><p>“Let’s go ahead and order,” Kaname says, nudging Sayuri off the sofa. “Who wants what?”</p><p>Michi reluctantly uncurls as the others move past, following Kaname into the kitchen. A pale hand is thrust before her. Tatsuya’s blue eyes are almost black in the darkening light outside.</p><p>She hesitates, and takes it. “Thanks.”</p><p>Tatsuya doesn’t let go. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice low.</p><p>“Yeah,” she says, bewildered why he’s bringing up their fight now.</p><p>“I’ve never seen you cry,” he says, and she realizes that he’s talking about the incident from earlier. She flushes. “Oh. Yeah. I’ve never had an asthma attack before.” <em>And now that the weird damsel in distress scene is over, I probably won’t ever have one again. </em>She forces a smile. “It freaked me out, is all. I’m fine now.”</p><p>Tatsuya tilts his head. He’s still holding her hand. Her heart is suddenly beating faster. She resists the urge to stare down at her bare feet as Tatsuya searches her face. The crease in his forehead eases. He lets go. She steps back quickly. “You shouldn’t frown like that,” she says lightly, trying to cover up her awkwardness. “Models shouldn’t have wrinkles, yeah?”</p><p>“You were crying,” he says, as if that answers it.</p><p>“It was an asthma attack. That doesn’t count.” She reaches up on tiptoe and taps his forehead with a fingertip. “I’m serious. You shouldn’t worry because of me.”</p><p>His expression shifts. He steps back. “<em>Friends</em> worry,” he says quietly, and turns and walks into the kitchen. Michi bites her lip. She doesn’t follow him.</p>
<hr/><p>“What’s going on with you and Tatsuya?”</p><p>Michi opens her eyes. She’s sprawled face-down on the bed in her pajamas, trying to summon the willpower to get up and brush her teeth. “Nothing. Why?”</p><p>Sayuri plops down beside her. “You’ve both been acting weird.”</p><p>Michi reluctantly rolls onto her back. “No, he hasn’t,” she says, trying to remember what Tatsuya has been doing that’s weird. He only ate a few pieces of fried chicken, but that’s just because he doesn’t like greasy food. He was quiet during the movie, but that was because Jirou started a tickle fight with Sayuri and they had to pause the film while Kaname hauled him off again.</p><p>“He doesn’t talk anymore.”</p><p>“It’s Tatsuya.”</p><p>“He doesn’t talk to <em>you</em> anymore.”</p><p>“I don’t talk much when we’re in a group.” Which is true. She only got dragged into the tickle fight because Kaname had asked her, in that very-calmly-scary tone of voice, to sit on Jirou’s chest while Nagisa administered the tickling punishment, and Jirou had discovered she was very ticklish and promptly escaped. She shivers, remembering. Sayuri prods her back to the present. “Michi. What’s going on?”</p><p>Michi looks up into her level green eyes and sighs. “Nothing. We had a bit of a misunderstanding last week, that’s all.”</p><p>“Did you explain it to him?”</p><p>“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Michi says. Sayuri crooks an eyebrow questioningly. Michi sits up and runs a hand through her hair. “It’s…hard to explain.”</p><p>Sayuri tilts her head, and slides off the bed. Before Michi can say anything, she’s climbing back on, gripping a hairbrush in one hand. She settles down behind Michi and starts to separate her hair into strands. “Is it something you can explain, or something you don’t want to?” she asks. Michi shrugs. “Kind of both?”</p><p>“Hmm.” Sayuri’s fingers brush the nape of her neck. The hairbrush threads gently over her scalp. Michi exhales slowly and tries to find where to begin.</p><p>“It was last week, when we had dinner at my apartment,” she says. Sayuri nods. She remembers. Michi’s parents had been out on their monthly date night, so Sayuri could play her music on the mini speaker while Kaname bustled around in the kitchen, making dinner. Theoretically, everyone was over so that they could plan out their graduation trip, but mostly it was Michi and Nagisa googling train tables and calculating travel funds while Sayuri and Jirou bickered over who would be valedictorian, Tatsuya napped on the couch, and Kaname tuned them all out over the sizzle of mackerel frying on the stove.</p><p>“You left to call a friend,” Sayuri remembers. “Tohru-chan, right?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Michi fidgets with the hem of her oversized T-shirt. “I hadn’t talked to her in a while. She goes to Kaibara Junior High now. She says it’s a really weird school.” She smiles crookedly. “They don’t have princes or special nicknames or secret idols or anything like that. And the teachers are all pretty old. Everyone’s pretty normal. Tohru said that even the cliques are pretty chill.”</p><p>“That sounds kind of boring.” Sayuri smooths a hand over her hair. “I can’t imagine Shishio-sensei being old. Or people calling Jirou Kirishima-san instead of the Ice Prince.” She giggles. “It just fits him so well.”</p><p>“You don’t ever think it’s weird, giving strangers nicknames like that?”</p><p>Sayuri twists to look at her, surprised. “No. The whole school calls him that. It’s not just us.”</p><p>“I guess.” Michi picks at her shirt again. Sayuri changes the subject. “So what happened? You were gone for ages. Kaname asked Tatsuya to go get you since the food was getting cold. He was up there for a while, and when he finally came back down he just mumbled something about needing to go home and left. And then <em>you</em> came down stairs all quiet and didn’t talk for the rest of the evening.”</p><p>Michi stares down at her lap. “So that’s why everyone knows about it?”</p><p>“Well, Tatsuya and Kaname are pretty close. I don’t know if he told him anything. But you aren’t the best at hiding your emotions, either, Mich.”</p><p>Michi makes a face. “So I’ve been told.”</p><p>“You don’t have to tell me what happened.” Sayuri puts down the brush and rubs her shoulders. “But Tatsuya isn’t the kind of guy who would get upset without a reason.”</p><p>“I know,” Michi sighs. “It’s just…I don’t know how to explain. To <em>anyone</em>.”</p><p>“Then tell him that, at least.”</p><p>“I did. I tried.” Michi winces, remembering. “…I think.”</p><p>Sayuri’s fingers dance along the line of her shoulders, working deftly on a knot in her shoulder blade. “You and Tatsuya aren’t very good at expressing yourselves,” she says bluntly.</p><p>“No kidding.” Michi winces again, this time because the knot Sayuri is prodding is coiled around a bundle of nerves. “I just don’t really get why he’s still upset, to be honest. It wasn’t even really a fight.”</p><p>“Well, what happened?”</p><p>“Tohru called. We were talking about the high school she’s going to. And I was telling her that I wouldn’t mind going to a school that doesn’t have princes. That it wouldn’t be that weird for me. I was joking around, saying that I might transfer. Ouch!”</p><p>“Sorry.” Sayuri eases the pressure on the knot. “And that’s when Tatsuya came in?”</p><p>“Yes.” It’s a white lie, but she’s glad Sayuri can’t see her face right now.</p><p>Tatsuya hadn’t come in. He must have been just outside her door. Maybe he had even knocked, but she hadn’t heard him. She was talking too loudly, caught up in the conversation, stumbling over her words as she tried to explain. <em>Of course I would miss Sayuri. But I don’t want to go to this school, Tohru. All the drama and princes and cliques. I just want a normal life again. I hate being the side character. No, it’s not that bad, Sayuri’s a good friend, I don’t mind the princes, it’s just </em>–<em>no, I know, but it really does feel like I’m just the side character, Tohru. I hate it. I feel like I’m trapped. Like no matter what I do, I’ll always just be a shadow beside the princes and Sayuri. I’ll never be able to compete with them, and I’ll never be able to fit in with anyone else. Like I’m stuck in between. And I hate it. I</em> –<em>no, they really are fine, I swear. It’s not them. I’m just</em>…</p><p>And then she had seen him standing in the doorway, one hand on the knob, seen the look on his face. She almost dropped the phone. <em>I </em>–<em>I, um, I’ll call you right back, Tohru. Sorry. Yeah. Sorry.</em></p><p>And then there had been the silence, thick and heavy between them. It hung there until she couldn’t stand it anymore. She opened her mouth. He spoke first.</p><p>
  <em>Is that really how you feel?</em>
</p><p>She couldn’t look up at him. <em>No. I</em> –</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>She swallowed hard. <em>I can explain.</em></p><p>His voice was flat. <em>Explain then. </em></p><p>
  <em>…How much did you hear?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why does that matter? </em>
</p><p>A pause. She fumbled blindly for words, for an explanation, for anything at all. Tatsuya’s voice was very quiet. <em>Have you ever thought of us as friends?</em></p><p><em>Yes. </em>It sounded like a lie, even to her.</p><p>His grip on the doorknob was white-knuckled. She still couldn’t look up at him.</p><p>
  <em>Why didn’t you tell us? Have we ever hurt you?</em>
</p><p>She had thought of their quiet place, of the sunlight speckling his face, the sleepy nonchalance in his voice as he said I like you. She didn’t say anything.</p><p><em>Have you ever thought of me as your friend? </em>The hurt in his voice stung worse than the accusation.</p><p><em>Yes, </em>she whispered.</p><p>
  <em>How can I believe you? </em>
</p><p>For a moment she wanted to lie. It would have been easier. She had been lying this whole time, hadn’t she? One more lie wouldn’t have hurt. One more lie to keep him from being hurt anymore. She hadn’t wanted to hurt any of them.</p><p>But then she looked up into his crystalized blue eyes, and knew she couldn’t. Not to his face. Not when he looked as if he almost wanted her to.</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry.</em>
</p><p>And he had left. She had waited for his footsteps to fade downstairs before she buried her face in her pillow and let the first sob escape.</p><p>She had thought that was it. Even Sayuri wouldn’t forgive her twice. None of them would. She wouldn’t blame them. Maybe she would transfer to a different school, after all. The thought made her sick.</p><p>But Tatsuya never said anything. They didn’t see each other again until this morning. She had almost managed to forget it had happened at all.</p><p>“And?” Sayuri prompts. Michi stares down at her hands. They’re clenched in her lap, fingers knotted between her white knuckles. “He thought I didn’t like them. The princes, I mean.”</p><p>“That’s silly,” Sayuri says. “Did you tell him that?”</p><p>“Yeah. I guess he didn’t believe me.” Another lie. But Sayuri is too focused on the knot in her shoulder to notice the odd note in her voice.</p><p>“That’s silly,” she says again. “I don’t know why he wouldn’t. Tatsuya is usually pretty practical.” She pauses, and adds thoughtfully, “Maybe he’s in love with you?”</p><p>“Definitely not.”</p><p>“Oh well. I’m sure if you pull him aside and explain it again, he’ll come around. Guys can be sensitive sometimes about stuff like this.” Sayuri gives her shoulder one final rub and sits back. “I can talk to him if you want, but it’s probably best you do it.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Michi slowly unknots her hands. “I will.”</p><p>“Good.” Sayuri flops back on the bed with a yawn. “Man, that fried chicken was good. I’m sleepy now. Can I turn off the lights?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Michi rolls her shoulders. “Thanks for the back massage.”</p><p>“No problem. You were pretty tense.” Sayuri flips the lights off and picks her way carefully back to the bed. The mattress shifts as she climbs in and wriggles under the covers besides Michi. “You should ask Kaname to give you one sometime. He’s really good at them.”</p><p>“Um.”</p><p>Sayuri giggles. “He won’t think it’s weird, I promise. He says you’re basically another little sister.”</p><p>“…Great.”</p><p>“Hey, don’t go having a crush on him. <em>That</em> would be weird.”</p><p>“Trust me, I’m not in danger of having a crush on any of them. Ever.” Michi nudges her under the covers, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, I’m pretty sure at least two of them are madly in love with you.”</p><p>“Oh, they’ll grow out of it.” Sayuri snuggles closer. She smells like strawberry shampoo and salt water. “They don’t know yet that we’re going to grow up and live in a city apartment and be rich and famous together.”</p><p>Michi snorts. “You go do that. I’ll just bum in your apartment and chase all the screaming fan boys away.”</p><p>“Mm.” Sayuri yawns. “That works too.” She fumbles in the dark for Michi’s hand. Michi clasps it warmly. “Go to sleep, Yuri.”</p><p>“Mm.” Sayuri sighs. “Hey, Mich?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I’m really glad you’re not transferring schools.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Michi’s voice is a little rough. She squeezes Sayuri’s hand tighter. “I won’t do that to you ever again. I promise.”</p><p>“Mm.” Sayuri’s voice is barely audible. “I believe you…”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was long &gt;.&lt;</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter Thirteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Thirteen</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At some point in the last three years, Michi made it a habit to write down the laws of this world.</p>
<p>Most of them are pretty straight-forward, like <em>Law #23:  The Heroine Is Always Top of the Class</em>, or <em>Law #14: The Heroine’s Best Friend Is Ignored by Every Boy in Her Class Except the Rivals. </em>Some of them are even useful to know, <em>like Law #19: One of the Rivals Is Nearby At All Times While At School</em>, which helped stop the bullying their first year, or her personal favorite, <em>Law #26: The Heroine’s Best Friend Is Also Bribed Often With Food</em>.</p>
<p>She flips through the list, tapping her pencil absently against her cheek. The house is quiet for once. Sayuri had announced her desire for a walk on the beach, and Jirou and Nagisa had suddenly developed a deep and overwhelming love of nature and gone with her. Kaname is upstairs in the guest room he shares with Tatsuya, reading a book. She hasn’t seen Tatsuya for a couple of hours; he’s probably either gaming upstairs with Kaname or sleeping somewhere.</p>
<p>The pulse of the waves is louder today. She’s going to miss the sound. It’s hard to believe that it’s already been almost a week. High school starts in two days. The tapping of her pencil stops. She sighs.</p>
<p>High school…the arena of all shoujo anime. If this world is a story, high school is where it truly begins.</p>
<p>Which means that her risk of being harassed, kidnapped, and otherwise injured has just shot up drastically. She groans. She’s been dreading this since the first year of middle school.</p>
<p> <em>Worst case scenario, the best friend dies tragically,</em> she thinks, pencil tapping a staccato against her chin. She tries to remember what happened to the heroine’s best friend in the shoujos she’d seen. The best friend in her memories was always some faceless, anonymous character who faded quickly as soon as the love arc took off.</p>
<p>
  <em>No. The real worst-case scenario…not being there at all. </em>
</p>
<p>She flips back to the first page in her notebook. The scrawled names and bullet points are etched into her memory at this point. She’s gone back through and edited some of the information, but most of it hasn’t changed.</p>
<p>
  <em>Ryugazaki Nagisa</em>
</p>
<ul>
<li><em>Deredere </em></li>
<li><em>Flower Prince</em></li>
<li><em>Childhood friend of main love interest</em></li>
<li><em>Love interest</em></li>
</ul>
<p>Not much new there. She wonders, for the millionth time, who Sayuri is going to end up with. She gets along best with Nagisa, and he’s probably the most popular Flower Prince. Even if he’s not as strikingly pretty as Tatsuya, or different as Jirou, he’s smart and kind, and his chill personality fits well with Sayuri’s intensity. If this is a feel-good slice of life shoujo, Michi can definitely see Nagisa being the one Sayuri ends up with.</p>
<p>
  <em>Kirishima Jirou</em>
</p>
<ul>
<li><em>Most popular of the Flower Princes</em></li>
<li><em>Tsundere</em></li>
<li><em>Only son of CEO/wealthy family</em></li>
<li><em>Academic rivals with Sayuri– main love interest?</em></li>
</ul>
<p>Michi sighs. Maybe it’s just a gut feeling, but Jirou seems like the obvious choice, with his stereotypical-protagonist-silver-hair and rivalry with Sayuri. Sayuri definitely hits him the most. Isn’t that a shoujo thing? That the heroine always hates the love interest in the beginning? Or is this one of those stories where the protagonist has a deep and dark secret which keeps him from falling in love until the heroine comes along? Michi’s gaze wanders down to the next entry. Tatsuya could definitely be the protagonist, if it’s like that. Sayuri’s the only one who can get him to smile just by being around him. Knowing her, she could definitely make him fall in love with her, if she tried.</p>
<p>And then there’s Kaname. She rereads the entry automatically and shakes her head, amused at herself.</p>
<p>
  <em>Ichigo Kaname</em>
</p>
<ul>
<li><em>Class president</em></li>
<li><em>Flower Prince</em></li>
<li><em>Type??</em></li>
<li><em>Love interest?</em></li>
<li><em>Sayuri is friends with him?</em></li>
</ul>
<p>Definitely not <em>that</em> kind of shoujo, she thinks firmly. And then her mind wanders to Kaname himself, and his quiet perceptiveness, and the way he always seems to be the first to notice when she’s feeling down, and how the sunlight reflects in his dark green eyes when he’s sitting behind her…</p>
<p>She nips that train of thought firmly in the bud. She still doesn’t know the outcome of this story, but she’s certain of one thing: the heroine’s best friend doesn’t have a part in the happy ending. No, she’ll watch Sayuri fall madly in love with one of them, and fade from view as the story goes on without her…</p>
<p>She turns quickly to the next page. Time to review the laws of this world. It’s always good to be prepared, just in case. Who knows what fresh hell high school will bring.</p>
<p>Law #1: The World Revolves Around the Heroine. She figured that out on day one.</p>
<p>Law #2: Personal Space is Not A Thing. She figured <em>that</em> out the first week. Even if Sayuri wasn’t always clinging to her, the boys have the disconcerting habit of sticking their faces an inch from hers when they’re talking. Just last night Nagisa curled up on top of her and fell asleep during the movie. She wouldn’t have minded so much except for Law #3: Unlike the Others, the Best Friend Still Has Basic Human Needs Like Using the Restroom.</p>
<p>Laws #5-#10 are all like that. Unlike the rest, she can’t magically eat all she wants and never gain an ounce, or never have bad breath, or bedheads, or perfect grades without visibly studying.</p>
<p>She turns the page. Her small journal is almost half full now with scribbled notes and laws inked in blue pen and entire lists of memories she’s supposed to have. Every so often Sayuri mentions something that happened before middle school, and she has to scramble to think of an excuse.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m sorry I have the memory of a goldfish and don’t remember being childhood friends. I have shoujo-induced amnesia. It’s a rare condition where you get plucked out of your reality and shoved into a harem romance and everyone remembers you except for you. Yeah, it’s totally legitimate, I swear. </em>
</p>
<p>Maybe Sayuri would believe her. But the others…she glances down at her scribbled notes.</p>
<p>
  <em>Fell out of a tree, age five. Weird scar on wrist.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Got lost in the store, age six -Kaname got me to stop crying. Sayuri still has nightmares.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>3/2/20 – Kaname keeps asking about stuff when we were kids. Suspicious?? Ask Sayuri?</em>
</p>
<p>She sighs. <em>I sound like a conspiracy theorist. </em></p>
<p>“Journaling?”</p>
<p>Michi squeaks. The notebook tumbles out of her hands. Kaname picks it up.</p>
<p>“Diary,” she stammers, heart in her mouth.</p>
<p>Kaname glances down at the crumpled pages. He looks at her frightened face, closes the notebook, smooths its blue cover, and hands it back to her. “Always keep to keep track of things,” he says pleasantly.</p>
<p>Michi exhales. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>Kaname looks around the empty living room. “Are the others still on their walk? They’ve been gone quite a while.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” She clears her throat. “Did you finish your book?”</p>
<p>“Hm? Ah, yes. It was just some short stories from my extracurricular literature class. I enjoyed it.” He tilts his head. “I can lend it to you, if you’d like.”</p>
<p>“I’d like to read it.” She twists her fingers in her lap. Even after three years, she still doesn’t know how to talk to Kaname. He’s not like the others. She can never quite tell what he’s thinking behind that pleasant smile and those inscrutable dark eyes.</p>
<p>Kaname looks out the window again. “They really have been gone a while,” he remarks. “We should go look for them.”</p>
<p>“It’s only been an hour.” Michi squints at the clock on the far wall. “Sayuri and Nagisa probably got distracted and are building a sandcastle or something. I wouldn’t worry.”</p>
<p>“True.” Kaname stretches idly. “Still, it’s a lovely day for a walk. Some exercise wouldn’t hurt.” He smiles down at her. “Come on a walk with me?”</p>
<p><em>Manipulation, </em>she thinks, ignoring the happy little pinging of her heart against her chest. <em>Total, cold-blooded manipulation. </em></p>
<p>She says yes anyway.</p>
<p>She can’t remember the last time she was alone with Kaname for more than a few minutes. He’s always seemed content to stay in the background, keeping an eye on his little sister and making sure the group never runs out of snacks or leaves anyone behind. Michi’s always appreciated that about him. She knows that even if the other boys forgot she existed around Sayuri, Kaname would always make sure she was still included.</p>
<p>She kicks a pebble on the side of the sandy concrete. It skitters into the dunes, bouncing over crab holes and tangles of seaweed. The beach here by the house is wild, not like the carefully groomed white sand down by the storefronts. With the salty breeze tangling her hair and the waves crashing on the rocks to her left, it feels like a story.</p>
<p>Kaname, of course, completes the picture. He’s walking slowly to keep pace with her, hands tucked into his pockets, the breeze ruffling his dark blond hair and the very blue sky kindling his eyes to grey-green. He smiles, noticing her staring. “Penny for your thoughts?”</p>
<p>“Just thinking,” she says.</p>
<p>“The sea does that to you.”</p>
<p>“Mm. I’m going to miss it.”</p>
<p>“You’ve never been out to the ocean before, have you?”</p>
<p>Michi shakes her head. “This was my first time. I’ve never seen the mountains, either. My parents always just took me to Tokyo to see my grandparents when I was little.”</p>
<p>“We should see if Jirou has a mountain resort, then.”</p>
<p>She laughs. “I don’t want to take advantage of him too much. It <em>was</em> really kind of him to let us stay out here.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think he minds,” Kaname says. “I don’t think he’s spent much time with friends, except for Nagisa. Neither has Tatsuya. Or Sayuri, for that matter.”</p>
<p>“<em>You</em> have friends outside our group,” she says. Kaname shrugs. “I like to talk to people.”</p>
<p>“I don’t.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m not very good at it.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps,” Kaname says, sounding amused. “But you’ve made friends outside our group, too.”</p>
<p>“I just don’t like to abandon people,” she says. “Like when Tohru moved away. I even still talk to Aiko, sometimes. She’s reached out a couple of times since we graduated. She changed a lot during our last year. I haven’t told Sayuri yet, though,” she adds, a bit guiltily.</p>
<p>“Yuri has a hard time forgiving people,” Kaname says, reading her mind. “It’s one of her few flaws. She gives a lot, but she expects a lot, too. It’s one of the things that makes it so hard for her to make friends. I’m hoping that will change in high school.”</p>
<p>“I think it will.” Michi kicks at another pebble and watches it dance through the rocks and into the foaming water. “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing, either. Sayuri doesn’t care what people think. As long as she has her group of people she trusts and can lean on them, she doesn’t mind standing out. Not like me.”</p>
<p>“You do have flaws,” Kaname agrees. “But I don’t think it’s a flaw, to be aware of how people see you. Even if they’re strangers. Yuri only cares about her own small world, but you can see outside that. You recognize other people’s thoughts and feelings. That’s not a bad thing, Michi.”</p>
<p>She shrugs. “It doesn’t feel like a <em>good</em> thing.”</p>
<p>“I imagine it feels quite annoying at times,” he chuckles. “But all the same, I’m glad Yuri has someone who can help her see past her own little world. She may need that, someday, if her world ever crumbles.”</p>
<p>Michi looks at him sharply. Kaname’s expression is placid, his gaze on the crashing waves behind her.</p>
<p>“I don’t think that will ever happen,” she says.</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t think it will, either. But sometimes you can’t control who you lose.” Kaname’s green eyes are wistful. “Yuri knows it, too. That’s why she clings so tightly to the people she cares about.”</p>
<p>“What about you?” she asks impulsively. Kaname’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Unlike Yuri, I don’t care who stays or leaves. That’s why it’s easier for me to make friends.”</p>
<p>“That’s not true.” Michi stops walking. “You would care if Tatsuya left.”</p>
<p>“Maybe a little.”</p>
<p>She folds her arms. “You would care if <em>I</em> left.”</p>
<p>“Would I?”</p>
<p>“You would.” She keeps walking. “You just wouldn’t do anything about it. But you would. You’re not heartless, Kaname.”</p>
<p>He chuckles. “Maybe not,” he says, catching up easily with her. “And what about you? You’ve actually tried to leave us behind.”</p>
<p>She grimaces. “That wasn’t–“</p>
<p>“Michi!” The distant shout echoes off the rocks. Both of them turn. Sayuri is a slender figure outlined against the dark rocks, jumping up and down and waving her arms as the much bigger shape of Jirou tries to keep her from tumbling into the sea. “Onii-san! Over here!”</p>
<p>Nagisa pops up besides her and cups his hands around his mouth. “We found starfish!”</p>
<p>Michi looks up at Kaname. “Told you.”</p>
<p>“Never disagreed.” Kaname sighs. “I do wish Yuri would stop putting herself into dangerous situations.”</p>
<p>“Jirou won’t let her die. He still needs to beat her to valedictorian.” Michi squints. “Also I think Nagisa is holding onto her shirt.”</p>
<p>“Ah. That makes me feel a little better.”</p>
<p>“We should probably go make sure they all don’t die, huh?”</p>
<p>Kaname ruffles her hair. “Good idea.”</p>
<p>She flushes at the unexpected contact. “I’ll get her down,” she says, breaking into a trot so he won’t see.</p>
<p>“Miiiiichiiii!” Sayuri waves frantically. Sea water glints on her skin and shimmers in the messy golden braid spilling down one shoulder. The sunlight turns Jirou’s silvery hair pure white; it matches his grumpy expression. He has one hand hooked firmly in Sayuri’s paisley jumper, one bare foot braced against a dry section of rock. “For god’s sake, stop jumping,” he says crossly. “The water’s deep here.”</p>
<p>“We found tidal pools!” Sayuri calls, ignoring him. “There’s starfish and crabs and Nagisa even found a sea anenemene– anemename–“</p>
<p>“How the hell did I lose to you on that spelling quiz?”</p>
<p>“Shut up, Kirishima.”</p>
<p>“It’s <em>anemone</em>, baka.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I <em>said</em>.”</p>
<p>“Anemenemene,” Jirou mimicks. Sayuri swats at him.</p>
<p>“Please climb down,” Kaname says, catching up them. Sayuri looks up mid-swat. “Oh. I forgot to mention. We’re stuck.”</p>
<p>“Only because you climbed up here first,” Jirou grumbles.</p>
<p>“I didn’t ask <em>you</em> to climb up after me.”</p>
<p>“I told you they would come find us,” Nagisa says cheerfully. “Hi Michi-chan! Kaname! I found a path back down. It’s just a bit slippery.”</p>
<p>“I can help,” Michi says, already climbing up onto the first boulder.</p>
<p>“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kaname says, frowning.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry. I used to cross the river down by the park all the time.” Michi tests a toehold, shifts her weight, and scrambles onto the next boulder. “Hey, Sayuri, take my hand. You can jump down from here.”</p>
<p>“Don’t you want to see the sea ane– the tidal pools?”</p>
<p>Michi looks down. The water isn’t too deep at the base of her boulder, but she can see the force of the current straining at the rocks. Above her, sheltered by the massive slab of black rock leaning against a clump of boulders, are Sayuri and Jirou. Now she can see Nagisa crouched down behind them, looking at something in the gap between the boulders. The distance between them is too far to jump without someone on the other side to catch her. Even if she did, there isn’t any room on the ledge. She looks down at Kaname. He understands.</p>
<p>“Sayuri,” he says. Sayuri sighs. “I wish I’d brought my phone,” she says wistfully. “I could have taken pictures.”</p>
<p>“We did get to see them, though,” Nagisa pipes up.</p>
<p>“But I wanted to show Michi.” Sayuri’s lower lip is starting to unfurl into a pout. Michi shifts her stance. “It’s alright. Come on. We can go looking for more tidal pools by the dock, where the current isn’t so strong.”</p>
<p>Sayuri relents. “Alright,” she says, and inches closer to the edge and reaches out. Their fingers meet. Jirou doesn’t relax his white-knuckled grip on Sayuri’s jumper. “You’ll have to jump.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s easy.” Sayuri brushes his hand away and leaps. Michi catches her breath, but the other girl is already beside her and leaping lightly onto the next boulder. She lowers herself into Kaname’s waiting arms and beams up at Michi. “Your turn.”</p>
<p>“One second.” Jirou fishes Nagisa out by the scruff of his shirt and nudges him towards Michi. “Hurry up. My legs are getting tired.”</p>
<p>Michi leans out and clasps Nagisa’s hand. He lands neatly and grins at her. “You’re much stronger than you look, Michi-chan.”</p>
<p>“I know,” she says, flattered anyway. Sayuri bristles down below. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p>
<p>Nagisa laughs and drops down to join her and Kaname.</p>
<p>Jirou eyes Michi. “I don’t care how strong you are, we are not both fitting on that boulder,” he says.</p>
<p>“It’s too far to jump,” she objects.</p>
<p>“Not like I’ve got much of a choice.”</p>
<p>“How did you get up there in the first place?”</p>
<p>“We climbed up the slab,” he says. “It was pretty dry earlier, but then the tide came in while those idiots were staring at the starfish.”</p>
<p>“What’s the problem?” Kaname calls up. Michi cups her hands around her mouth to be heard. The tide is roaring in now, slapping and sucking at the boulders a few feet below. “There isn’t enough room for both of us!”</p>
<p>“Michi, come down! It’s dangerous!”</p>
<p>“I’m not letting him drown, Sayuri,” she says exasperatedly.</p>
<p>“Jirou’s actually a really strong swimmer!” Nagisa volunteers.</p>
<p>Jirou cups a hand to his ear. “What are they saying?”</p>
<p>“Nothing helpful,” Michi grumbles. She blows out her breath and casts a worried look down at the rising water. It’s up to Kaname’s knees now. Nagisa and Sayuri have both retreated farther up the beach.</p>
<p>“He’s the main love interest,” she mutters. “He can’t die. I think.”</p>
<p>Jirou squints. “What?”</p>
<p>“Nothing. Here. We’ll just have to try.” She braces her bare feet firmly against the spray-spattered rock, hooks her fingers into a groove, and stretches out her other hand. “I’ll jump back as you land. Just be careful.”</p>
<p>Jirou inches out. A wave crashes against the slab at his back. His shirt is mottled with spray. His wide gray eyes lock with hers. Michi manages a smile. “I’ll catch you,” she says. “I promise.”</p>
<p>Jirou sets his jaw, and jumps.</p>
<p>His fingers lock around her wrist. She tumbles back, pulling him forward with all her strength as his bare feet skid on the wet rock.</p>
<p>For a heart-wrenching second, they hover there, half-on, half-off the boulder, his free hand scrabbling at the stone, her wet fingers slipping through his. He teeters forward. His blunt nails scrape her skin. Her foot slips out from under her. Empty air yawns at her back.</p>
<p>Then blue sky spirals into the sea, and she falls.</p>
<p><em>Law #36: The Main Characters Always Survive. The Best Friend Does Not</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Happy Easter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter Fourteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Fourteen</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>She wakes with a start. </p><p>The room is dark. She fumbles for the light, panting. Cold air prickles her skin as she kicks the coverlet off. </p><p>The lamp clicks on. Soft light floods the bedroom, reflecting off the dark window pane. Her ghostly reflection stares back at her in the blur of city lights below, dark eyes wide in the white smudge of a face. </p><p>Michi takes a deep breath and shivers. </p><p>
  <em>Just a bad dream. </em>
</p><p>She presses her hands over her eyes, trying to ease the pounding in her skull. The old-fashioned wall clock across from her ticks the hour. Three o’clock. Even the city outside is asleep. </p><p>Does she have school tomorrow? She can’t remember. </p><p>In the dream she was falling. There was thunder, cold spray at her back, a hand reaching desperately…</p><p>She shivers again. <em>Just a nightmare. </em></p><p>She pushes her tangle of damp hair away from her face and breathes out. Her mind clears. Now she remembers. Tomorrow is the first day of high school. She should go back to sleep. </p><p>She lies back down and pulls the coverlet snug. Her skin is sticky with sweat. She’ll have to get up early to take another bath. </p><p><em>Just nerves, </em>she thinks, trying to slow her breathing. Her heart is still pounding dully in her ears. <em>First day of school. </em></p><p>There’s a nagging feeling in her chest that there’s something more, something she’s forgetting. That something is going to happen. </p><p>She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Already the terror of falling is fading along with the dream. </p><p>
  <em>Just a nightmare. </em>
</p><p>The alarm jolts her out of a dead sleep. She slaps at the nightstand and realizes belatedly that the beeping is coming from the wristwatch on her desk. </p><p><em>Phone, </em>she thinks dazedly, and remembers that she doesn't have one. She lurches out of bed. The shrill beeping stops. </p><p>Six-thirty. One hour before she has to leave. The academy isn’t within walking distance, and she’s never used the train alone before, but the station is only a few minutes away…</p><p>She looks down at her too-big pajama shirt and groans. She needs a bath. She’s all sticky with sweat–</p><p>That’s right. The nightmare. </p><p>She shakes the memory away. No time to dwell on it. </p><p>Her parents are up by the time she finishes her bath. She can hear Dad’s deep voice between sips of his coffee and Mom clattering around in the kitchen. Michi gives her dripping hair one last twist with the towel and glances at the clock on the wall. Seven o’clock. No time for breakfast. Oh well, she was going to start the new diet today, anyway. Hitoka’s been teasing her about getting fat. Ever since she hit her last growth spurt, her body’s felt awkward and unfamiliar, like it’s grown in all the wrong places. She’s not used to being this big. She’s even taller than Mom now. </p><p>She tugs at a damp brown curl in the mirror and frowns. Has her hair been this long for a while? She thought she’d gotten it cut again only a few weeks ago. It’s past her shoulders now, even with the tips curling. </p><p>With a shrug, she turns away from the mirror and stoops to rummage through the dresser. Her new uniform is draped over the chair at her desk. A frown crinkles her forehead again. She could have sworn that the uniform was supposed to be white. This skirt and collared blouse look like the grey version of every public high school uniform she knows. </p><p>The uneasy feeling niggles at the back of her mind again. </p><p>
  <em>Something is going to happen. </em>
</p><p>Michi shakes her head. <em>It’s just the dream, </em>she tells herself firmly. <em>That’s all. The dream threw you off. Just nerves for the first day of school. </em></p><p><em>Something is going to happen, </em>the tiny voice in her mind whispers back. <em>Something is </em>supposed<em> to happen. </em></p><p>Michi shivers. She remembers the feeling of falling, the thundering noise below, the flick of cold spray at her back. </p><p>There had been a face. It’s blurred in her mind now, all wide terrified eyes and that hand reaching desperately down, too far away, too late. </p><p>The feeling of falling is so strong she takes a step back, has a sharp breath. </p><p>
  <em>Just a dream. </em>
</p><p>Voices downstairs jolt her back to reality. She gives her hair one last rub and reaches for her uniform. The dull grey fabric is oddly reassuring. </p><p><em>Just a dream</em>, she thinks again. </p><p>Mom is packing her bento lunch when Michi comes racing downstairs, her bag slung over one shoulder. </p><p>“You’re going to be late,” Mom says without looking up. </p><p>“I’ve got ten minutes.” </p><p>“That’s not enough time to eat breakfast.”</p><p>“I’ll just skip it today. I’m not hungry anyways.”</p><p>Mom clicks her tongue, but she closes the bento and slides it across the countertop. Michi takes it gratefully. “Smells good.”</p><p>“It’s just leftover miso soup from last night and some salmon onigiri,” Mom says, her tone mollified. </p><p>Michi groans. “Salmon?”</p><p>“What? I thought that’s your favorite?” Mom demands, no longer mollified. </p><p>“It is, but she always steals it–“ she stops.</p><p>Mom frowns. “Who, Hitoka-chan? Doesn’t she bring her own lunch?”</p><p><em>Hitoka hates salmon, </em>the little voice whispers in the back of Michi’s mind. <em>Its </em><strong>her</strong><em> favorite–</em></p><p>“Don’t let other people eat your lunch,” Mom says sharply. “Especially if you aren’t going to eat breakfast.”</p><p>“Yeah. I won’t.” Michi rubs her temples. A headache is starting to blossom behind her eyes. She shoves the bento into her bag. “Thanks mom. I’m off.”</p><p>“Take care. Have a good first day. Tell me if–“</p><p>The door clicks shut. Michi stares at the apartment across the hall. It takes her a second to realize she’s waiting for the door to open. </p><p>
  <em>Something is supposed to be happening…</em>
</p><p>She hitches her bag up on her shoulder and hurries to the elevator. </p><p>Orientation goes by in a blur. She’s lucky. Hitoka is in her class again, and she gets the window seat in the very back row. </p><p>A boy sits next to her. She stiffens, but he only pushes his glasses farther up the crooked bridge of his nose and buries his face in his textbook. She goes back to staring out the window, embarrassed. Her fingers knot and unknot themselves in her skirt, trying to unravel the uneasy feeling building up in her chest. </p><p>She realizes, with a pang, that she can’t see the sakuras from here. And then she remembers that the nearest sakuras are in the park, miles from here. So why did she think she could she see them reflected in the scratched glass? Why does she feel like she’s still dreaming?</p><p>She eats lunch with Hitoka on the other side of the classroom. Her seatmate is still sitting at the desk, hunched over a game controller. He still hasn’t introduced himself, and Michi hasn’t asked. She never really knows what to say to boys, and besides, the silence is too awkward now. She’s rather sit and pick at her food while Hitoka chatters about the cute boy who sits in the front row, and how their homeroom teacher must be at least ninety years old, and how amazing the new anime that came out is so far.</p><p>Lunch ends. Glasses Boy hunches his thin shoulders and looks away when she sits back down next to him. Michi stares out the window and imagines pale pink petals swirling in the breeze. For a moment she can almost see the row of sakuras lining the road, the white marble buildings and a blonde girl standing on the flagstones below, the cherry blossoms curling in her hair...</p><p>Michi snorts silently. Not even private academies have buildings or trees like that. And this is the top public school in her area. It’s not like this place is <em>bad</em>. </p><p>Still, the daydream is nice. She props her chin on one hand and slips back into it as the homeroom teacher drones on in that slightly-too-loud voice about the American involvement and the industrial revolution. </p><p>She’s lethargic from boredom and the late afternoon sun by the time the final bell rings, signaling the end of clean up. She wanders over to Hitoka’s desk. </p><p>“I’ve got drama club,” Hitoka says, already packing her bag. “Have you signed up for a club yet?”</p><p>Michi shrugs. “Maybe I’ll sign up for drama club, too,” she says idly. </p><p>Hitoka laughs. “You? Acting? No way. Besides, this isn’t the kind of club you can just join. Everyone says we’ve got a really good group this year. We might even go semi-professional. And all the stagehand spots are taken.” </p><p>“Hey, you don’t have faith in my acting talent?”</p><p>Hitoka rolls her eyes. “Micchan, I’ve known you since we were in middle school. I’m your best friend. Trust me when I say, you can’t act.”</p><p>Michi laughs. “Alright, fine. I’ll find a different club.”</p><p>“Let me know what you pick.” Hitoka slings her bag over her shoulder. “See ya.”</p><p>“See ya.” </p><p>The door slides shut behind her. The smile rolls off Michi’s face. She looks around at the empty classroom. Everyone else has already left for club orientation. </p><p>She goes back over to her seat. Outside is a swarm of grey as students hurry to the club rooms and gyms. She watches the sea of dark heads flow out. Here and there are spots of color, a dyed amber head bobbing as the girl joins her friends, some frosted tips vanishing through the gates as the boy breaks into a run. </p><p>A new flicker of color catches her eye. Dark blond, gleaming red in the late afternoon sunlight, too natural to be dyed. The boy stands a head above the rest of the crowd, his broad shoulders casually parting the stream of people moving against him. His friend is only a little shorter, with jet-black hair so dark that it seems to absorb the light. Both of them are wearing white uniforms, not grey. They must be from a different school. </p><p>Michi frowns. Why are they here? Class has only just ended, and there isn’t a school with uniforms like that anywhere near here. </p><p>Movement stirs by the gates. A girl joins them, flanked by two more boys. Michi stares. The girl is tiny, almost lost in the crowd except for the sunlight that glints on her golden curls like a spotlight. The shorter boy is chattering, laughing. The sunlight makes the taller boy’s hair impossibly white–</p><p><em>Falling</em>. </p><p>A hand reaching for her. </p><p>A face. A face with silver hair–</p><p>She steps back. The afternoon glare on the glass blurs the crowd below. The girl and four boys are gone. </p><p>Michi presses a hand to her throbbing forehead. </p><p><em>Something is supposed to be happening,</em> the tiny voice whispers. <em>Something is missing. </em></p><p>The feeling of falling is still tugging at her bones. She feels as if she took another step she would slip right through the floor. </p><p><em>Falling</em>...</p><p>She stumbles away, almost falls through the doorway. The hallway is still bustling with clusters of students, the last-minute errand runners and lingering club members hoping to snag leftover first-years. The ones closest to her give her strange looks. A boy moves toward her, clutching club papers. “Hi! Would you like to join the swim team?”</p><p>“Sorry,” Michi stammers, slipping past. Her heart thuds in her ears. Her head throbs. She hunches her shoulders and hurries down the stairs, conscious of the stares. </p><p><em>Dreaming</em>, she thinks, <em>just a dream–</em></p><p>But her heart is thudding like a hammer in her chest, and every beat says <em>Real. Real. Real. </em></p><p><em>Something is supposed to be happening, </em>the tiny voice screams. </p><p>She presses her hands over her ears to block it out. But her heart won’t stop pounding.</p><p>
  <em>Real. Real. Real. </em>
</p><p>Maybe she’s going crazy. </p><p>“How was your first day?” Mom catches sight of her face. Her tone turns to worry. “Michi, what’s wrong?”</p><p>“Nothing.” Michi hunches her shoulders. “Just tired.”</p><p>“Did you stay up watching those cartoons again? I told you, you’re growing, you need sleep–“</p><p>“I’m <em>fine</em>, Mom.”</p><p>“Where are you going? Michi, come back here. You can’t stay up watching anime every night–“</p><p>“I <em>didn’t</em>.” </p><p>She knows by the look on Mom’s face that she doesn’t believe her. She hitches up her bag and hurries past. “Gotta study,” she mumbles.</p><p>“Dinner is in an hour!” Mom yells after her.</p><p>Her room is awash in the late afternoon glow. Michi sets her backpack on her bed and moves mechanically through the ritual of changing into sweatpants and folding her uniform over the chair. She pulls out her new textbooks, stacks them on the desk, balances a manga on the teetering pile on the nightstand, and reaches absently for her phone before remembering, <em>again</em>, that she doesn’t have one. She shakes her head.</p><p><em>What is </em>wrong<em> with me today?</em></p><p>She picks up a textbook, flips through it listlessly, and sets it back down and flops onto her bed. The manga stack teeters. She glares at it until it stabilizes again.</p><p>There’s barely any homework. She can do it all later.</p><p>She’s tired. That’s all.</p><p>
  <em>Stupid nightmare.</em>
</p><p>She closes her eyes. The nagging feeling is still tugging at her chest. With a groan, she rolls off the bed again.</p><p>
  <em>Stupid nightmare, stupid homework…</em>
</p><p>The old-fashioned clock ticks dully in the background. She plops down in the chair and pulls the textbook closer and stares at the calendar on the wall, trying to summon the energy to actually read. The same grey kitten is sprawled over May. She always forgets to ask Mom for a new calendar. She’s had this one since middle school. She’s never even turned the page.</p><p>The kitten looks back at her with wide blue eyes. Her gaze drops to the date.</p><p>May 6<sup>th</sup>. High school must start later. Usually it’s on the second…</p><p>There’s something written on May 2<sup>nd</sup>. She recognizes the blue ink. That had been her favorite pen all first year of middle school. She squints to read the scribbled words.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Shoujo began today.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Shoujo?</p><p>May 2nd–</p><p>
  <em>Falling…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>An outstretched hand.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A boy with silver hair.</em>
</p><p>The names flood back.</p><p>
  <em>Jirou.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Nagisa.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Kaname.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tatsuya.</em>
</p><p>And she remembers.</p><p>The chair clatters to the floor. Mom yells something from downstairs, something she doesn’t hear, can’t hear over the pounding in her chest. Her mind swirls. The names beat in her chest, louder than her heart, louder than the roaring in her ears–</p><p>
  <em>Jirou. Nagisa. Kaname. Tatsuya.</em>
</p><p>Michi stares at the calendar. She remembers the thunder of waves, the spray at her back, Jirou’s outstretched hand.</p><p><em>Falling</em>…</p><p>They’re missing, the tiny voice screams.</p><p>She sucks in a breath. One name blots out the rest.</p><p><em>Sayuri</em>.</p><p>And the world <em>shifts.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Michi's alive! And so is the author...despite all intents and appearances.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Fifteen</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The world <em> shifts </em>.</p>
<p>Waves thunder. The cold water hits her like a slap, yanking her under. The boulder rears up, a dark blur in the foaming water. She’s flailing, her lungs on fire, and the world is spinning and everything’s dark–</p>
<p>The tide surges up. Her head breaks the surface. She gulps air and seawater before the current pulls her back under. </p>
<p>Someone was screaming her name–</p>
<p>Her lungs are burning–</p>
<p>A dark looming shape in the water–</p>
<p>Then her head cracks against the rock, and everything goes black. </p>
<p>Michi blinks. The grey kitten on the calendar stares back. </p>
<p>She sits down heavily. </p>
<p>
  <em> Did…did I die? </em>
</p>
<p><em> Did that just happen? Is my body </em> – <em> is the </em> me <em> there dying? </em></p>
<p>She feels sick. </p>
<p><em> Sayuri </em>. </p>
<p>What happens when she dies? Will she disappear from that world? Will everyone forget she existed? Or will they find her body–</p>
<p>She cuts that thought off. </p>
<p>The look on Jirou’s face when she fell…</p>
<p>Someone had been screaming her name. </p>
<p><em> They sent us to the sea when Mom died, </em>Sayuri had said. </p>
<p>The cold grey water had looked so ominous when she first saw it. And she had thought, with sudden dread, that <em> something is going to happen… </em></p>
<p>She feels like throwing up. </p>
<p>She wants to cry. </p>
<p>She wants to go back. </p>
<hr/>
<p>“You look awful,” Hitoka says. </p>
<p>Michi scrubs a wrist across her bleary eyes. She’d barely slept last night. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>Hitoka waits for her to go on, and changes the subject when she doesn’t. “Did you decide on a club yet?”</p>
<p>Michi shakes her head.</p>
<p>“You’d better hurry. They’ll all be filled up soon.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>Hitoka frowns. “Are you sick?”</p>
<p>Michi shrugs.</p>
<p>“Are you mad at me?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>Hitoka shrugs sharply. “I dunno. You’re being all weird.”</p>
<p>Michi rubs her eyes again. “I’m not mad at you.”</p>
<p>Hitoka is still frowning. “Okay.” She shoves her chair back. “I’m going to the cafeteria after all. Bye.”</p>
<p>Michi just shrugs. She’s used to Hitoka’s moods. Sometimes she goes days without speaking to her, once something’s set her off. </p>
<p><em> Sayuri wouldn’t have gotten offended, </em> the little voice whispers. </p>
<p>No, Sayuri wouldn’t have left. She would have pretended not to notice, but she would have pulled her chair closer until their knees were bumping, and teased Jirou into getting them milk bread, because she knew Jirou’s reactions always made Michi laugh…</p>
<p>And Nagisa would bounce over and sprawl on their desk and join in, his legs swinging and his curly head leaning on Sayuri’s shoulder, and Tatsuya would wake up from his nap to watch Jirou sputter, and Kaname would quietly leave to get the milk bread. And Jirou would turn the teasing on Michi, because it always made Sayuri lose her perfect composure, and Nagisa would laugh so hard he’s almost fall off the desk, and Tatsuya would look at her with faint concern, but Jirou’s grey-blue eyes would be dancing with wicked humor and hers would be dancing back–</p>
<p>“Are you okay?”</p>
<p>Michi flinches. Her seatmate is staring at her from across the classroom. He flushes dully as their eyes meet and ducks his head so fast his glasses slip to the tip of his nose. “You’re, uh, crying.”</p>
<p>Michi touches her cheek. There’s a damp trail from the corner of her eye. Now the others are staring, too. </p>
<p>She almost trips over herself getting to her feet. She can hear the whispers stirring as the door slams shut behind her. </p>
<hr/>
<p>The bathroom is blessedly empty. Michi splashes cold water on her face. Her cheeks are almost as red as her eyes. </p>
<p>
  <em> Day two. Only day two. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> I hate this. </em>
</p>
<p>She can’t stop thinking of her body floating on the cold grey sea. </p>
<p>
  <em> They sent us to the sea when Mom died.  </em>
</p>
<p>Sayuri had looked so peaceful. Would she still look peaceful, when they find the body? Will she remember at all? </p>
<p>Maybe she hadn’t died. Maybe someone rescued her–</p>
<p>But she’s still here. Back in her own world. </p>
<p>Back to being the main character of her own life. </p>
<p>She wants to go back. </p>
<p>There has to be a way to go back–</p>
<p>Unless she really did die. Unless she’s stuck here forever. </p>
<p>She feels sick. </p>
<p>
  <em> But…if dying there brought me here… </em>
</p>
<p>Her reflection in the mirror stares back at her with swollen red eyes. </p>
<p><em> If dying brought us here, maybe dying will bring us back, </em>the tiny voice whispers. </p>
<p>Her reflection shivers. </p>
<hr/>
<p>For the next month, Michi remembers what it’s like to live in her own world. </p>
<p>This world has a steady rhythm that never seems to chance. Class, talking with Hitoka once the other girl gets tired of ignoring her, walking home alone, pretending to do homework, eating dinner while Mom asks about school, reading manga or watching anime, actually doing homework late at night when the last-minute desperation finally kicks in, sleep. Repeat. </p>
<p>She finishes the weird vampire reverse harem anime. It’s terrible. She rewatches it anyway. </p>
<p>She finds a new manga series she likes. A week passes before she stumbles reluctantly back into the real world and the looming mountain of homework she’s been avoiding. </p>
<p>More homework. Even anime gets dull after a while. She finds herself actually studying, filling out worksheets in the silence of her room, the silence of everything. It’s strangely peaceful. She’d always hated doing homework in the other world. It was so much more fun to poke Jirou under the table, or let Nagisa distract her, or borrow one of Tatsuya’s earbuds and catnap next to him. Even when Sayuri and Jirou got into one of their furious study modes and wouldn’t let anything distract them, Nagisa was always up for an adventure to the store for ice cream. The only one who could ever get her to study was Tatsuya. Getting his undivided attention was worth even doing homework. </p>
<p>But now there’s no one to tease, no one to distract her, and it’s better to fill out worksheets than sit in silence and remember. </p>
<p>She ends up joining the poetry club at school. She’s never really been into poetry, but one rainy day when it was just her and Kaname in the classroom, he had recited <em> Niobe </em> from memory. On rainy days, she remembers the raindrops pattering down the window around him, his dark eyes a little sad and his voice low and soft and sweet as he said <em> how like the sky she bends above her child… </em></p>
<p>It’s the one thing she can remember without the hard burning feeling inside her chest, and she had thought <em> this one I can keep.  </em></p>
<p>But there are days when the club is full of talking and laughing and she forgets even that. </p>
<p>She half-expects Hitoka to drift away, but the other girl doesn’t seem to care that they don’t do much together outside of school. She still sits with her at lunch and chatters about the latest gossip, and sometimes they trade snacks. Michi helps her with her English, and Hitoka gives her pointers for science, and every so often a classmate wanders over to join in. For the first time, Michi doesn’t feel like an outsider in her own class. She doesn’t really feel like anything at all. Sometimes one of the other girls will invite her out for ice cream or a movie with the others, and she smiles and makes an excuse. </p>
<p>Three years ago she would have killed for a chance to be invited into the group. Now the idea is grey and empty. Nothing really seems to matter anymore. It’s easier to just go home and finish her homework and watch anime. </p>
<p>Another month passes. Her grades go up. Mom stops yelling at her to do her homework and starts asking her about things other than school, about her friends, about things she wants to do outside of school. It’s nice. Her middle-school self would have been thrilled. </p>
<p>It seems silly now, hating the other world. Hating being the side character. Why had she hated it so much? Why had it even mattered? So what, that she had <em> only </em> been the best friend, <em> only </em> a part of that little group? So what that she didn’t belong in that world? <em> They </em> had made a place for her. They had been enough.</p>
<p>Now she’s back in her own world, in control of her own story, free to be a main character. Free to do anything.</p>
<p>Class. Homework. Anime. The days blur by. </p>
<p>Class. Lunch with Hitoka, listening to her go on and on about her cute co-star in the drama club. </p>
<p>Homework. It’s been almost three months when her English teacher praises her in class. She tries to feel proud, tries to feel some flush of warmth as she sits down again. Maybe the pride will come later, when she tells Mom. Maybe it won’t. It doesn’t really matter. She starts to turn back to the window.</p>
<p>For a split second, Sayuri’s beaming face flashes in front of her. She feels a warm hand on her shoulder, hears Kaname murmuring congratulations in her ear. Nagisa –oh, Nagisa’s gotten so <em> tall </em> , his baby fat melting away, no longer all big amber eyes and cherubic curls– is flinging his arms around her and saying they should all get ice cream to celebrate. Jirou has that gruff note in his voice that says he means it when he says <em> Not bad, kid, </em>and Tatsuya’s rare small soft smile–</p>
<p>The first raindrop hits the windowpane. Michi swallows the sudden tightness in her throat and goes back to doodling. </p>
<p>She doesn’t feel proud. She doesn’t feel anything at all. </p>
<hr/>
<p>The rain is pattering a steady drum-beat on the roof overhead by the time she steps inside the club room. Most of the others are already there. She takes a seat in the corner and watches the rain stream down the window. The sky is stormy gray, thick with dark clouds. She should have brought an umbrella. </p>
<p>One of the club members finishes reciting a poem by Izumi Shikibu and sits down to mild applause. The club president gets to his feet. </p>
<p>“Thank you for the poem, Tanaka-san,” he says, and clears his throat. “Before the rest of you share your poems, there’s one I want to recite to you all. It’s too long to assign to anyone to memorize, but it’s one of my favorites, and I’d like you all to hear it. It’s by the British author Alfred Noyes.”</p>
<p>Michi looks up from the window. For a second she sees Kaname, framed against the falling rain. She stiffens. </p>
<p>The president clears his throat again. “It’s called Niobe,” he says, and closes his eyes.</p>
<p>Michi’s breath catches. Kaname’s voice is soft and sad, echoing the melancholy of the rain:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> How like the sky she bends above her child </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> One with the great horizon of her pain! </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> No sob from our low seas where woe runs wild </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> No weeping cloud, no momentary rain </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Can mar the heaven-high visage of her grief </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> That frozen anguish, proud, majestic, dumb </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She stoops in pity above the laboring earth, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Knowing how fond, how brief, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Is all its hope, past, present, and to come </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She stoops in pity, and yearns to assuage its dearth… </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kaname’s voice fades away. The president opens his eyes. A minute ticks by before the others slowly break back into conversations.</p>
<p>Michi doesn’t hear them. Kaname is still standing in front of the window. His hazel-green eyes are dark in the muted light of the classroom. His uniform jacket rustles as he moves. She could reach out and touch him. The classroom is empty. It’s just them. </p>
<p>The words escape her before she can catch her breath. “Come back,” she whispers. </p>
<p>Kaname smiles, a little sadly, and straightens up. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go find the others.”</p>
<p>She reaches for him. </p>
<p>Too late. </p>
<p>The president is talking again. One of the other club members is getting to his feet, waiting nervously to recite his own poem. No one heard her whisper. No one else had seen Kaname. </p>
<p>Michi swallows hard. That wasn’t a memory. He was <em> there </em>. She had heard his voice, as real as the president’s is now. She could have touched his sleeve. </p>
<p>Her heart starts to pound, faster and faster. </p>
<p>For a moment –just a moment– it was real again.</p>
<p>The hope she thought had finally died is rising hard and hot in her chest. Her heart pounds.</p>
<p>Maybe– maybe– maybe–</p>
<p>She can go back.</p>
<p>She stares out the window, at the rain slipping down the glass, blurring the world outside. </p>
<p>Suddenly she wants to go outside. She <em> has </em> to go out. If she can just cross that blurred line–</p>
<p>“Tachibana?” the president asks, as she stumbles to her feet.</p>
<p>She doesn’t know what she says. But the president steps back, letting her through, and then she’s running through the hall, down the stairs, past the lockers, not caring about getting her shoes, not caring that her backpack is still in the club room, just needing to cross that line–</p>
<p>The doors fling open. The wall of rain rises up.</p>
<p>Michi hesitates.</p>
<p><em> Go back! </em> the tiny voice screams. </p>
<p>The waves crashing, the boulder looming up, falling into the cold and the dark–</p>
<p>
  <em> Go back– </em>
</p>
<p>She sees her limp body floating face-down on the cold grey sea. She sees the words flash across the news –unknown girl drowns on Nishiki beach– and sees Sayuri glances absently at the headline, not caring, because she won’t remember, none of them will remember, because that world swallowed her up and spat her out again–</p>
<p>
  <em> Go back… </em>
</p>
<p>She remembers the old-fashioned clock on the wall instead of her new alarm clock. She remembers the stack of manga where there should be her phone, with her cracked screen with her and Sayuri’s beaming faces in the background. She remembers the white uniform with its ridiculous jumper and ruffles, and how proud her parents had been that she’d gotten into a private high school like the others, because–</p>
<p>Because she <em> wasn’t </em> the side character. She was the best friend. And it doesn’t <em> matter </em> if that’s all she ever is, it doesn’t <em> matter </em> if she doesn’t belong in that stupid weird world with its harems and clichés, doesn’t <em> matter </em> that the heroine lives across the hall.</p>
<p>They had made a place for her. They had been enough. <em> She </em> had been enough. </p>
<p>Michi steps into the rain. </p>
<p>The world blurs. </p>
<p>And <em> shifts </em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Special thanks to ZHEDDYDEADDY and Kiera for commenting! I love hearing you guys' thoughts. Next chapter will be up sometime in the next two weeks!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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